


The Small Postures

by Celenier



Category: Naruto
Genre: Anbu Haruno Sakura, Angst, Body Horror, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Haruno Sakura-centric, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Identity Issues, Main Pairing is NOT underage or non-consensual, Manipulation, Shinobi System Intrigue, Slow Build, Suspense, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 12:17:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 38
Words: 80,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9384668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celenier/pseuds/Celenier
Summary: Sakura acts as a spy for Tsunade when ROOT takes an interest in her. While earning her place in the ANBU ranks, she discovers her own path to greatness. Along the way she learns grim secrets about how her village operates, makes terrible enemies, and begins to appreciate the extent of her fractured personality.





	1. The Clearing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tags looked very clogged when I had all this information in the story description - so I moved some notes here! This story is a slow build. I can't say this enough! It is a Creeping-Plot story. A lot of uncomfortable topics and the occasional attempt at humor that I might completely botch. :) And more focus on Sleuthing Angles for shinobi rather than the Flashy Attacks of the manga; I play the canon-facts a little loose here. :) Sakura is pivotal to the plot and respected by the narrative (and the fic author) -obviously this story will be very non-canonical.
> 
> (This is something of a disclaimer I have attached to the first chapter of this story on ffnet and will paste here as well because I know readers have commented with similar doubts.)
> 
> Furthermore, reviewers have said they are reading this story with apprehension and worry because of Sakura's young age and they believe Kakashi will be predatory. This is not the case for their relationship, as it is a long-developing relationship without romantic or sexual implication in its origin. However, there is a lot of uncomfortable material involving Sakura and other characters that I handle as tactfully as I can. There are characters in the story who do mistreat Sakura while she is a child, but I think this should be expected on behalf of readers considering the culture of the manga world. Any child serving in a military from twelve years of age, or in Kakashi's case four, is a victim. I know fandom culture likes to aggressively check authors and content creators, and sometimes rightfully, but there needs to be some understanding of context. This story is my attempt to look at certain characteristics of this ninja culture that are not fully explored in the manga, or at best mentioned briefly and then glossed over and at worst celebrated.
> 
> Please prepare yourself accordingly, as I do not want to upset anyone, but also understand I am trying my best to be tasteful while unpacking this story and working through unpleasant issues and topics.
> 
> And I guess I have to say this, but I do not endorse things in this story and the original manga such as child soldiers, manipulation, mass murder, human experimentation, torture, and forced servitude. I do not condone mature and/or sexual relationships between adults and children. As a reader, understand that I, as a writer, understand these situations do happen and that they can and do have long-lasting physical, mental, and emotional consequences. I will not write such scenes explicitly. The point of such scenes is not titillation or exhibitionism. They only further explore detrimental consequences of accepting children as military operatives. The fact of the matter is that adults prey on and exploit children in this manner and I do not think the Naruto-verse is exempt from that, but rather potentially, unfortunately, well suited for it when we look at other canonic instances of personal and systemic abuse.
> 
> If you are still apprehensive, then I suggest the back button. I cannot assure in every case that I will perfectly write about any of these topics. I'm just an individual using a creative outlet to explore my own perspective concerning certain topics and choosing to share the results with other people who are willing to tolerate my amateur endeavour.
> 
> Leave your feedback as you read and let me know how I'm doing.

_a fire breathes its last, say hello to the ash_

-o-

Kakashi had seen the girl in question earlier that morning and his first impression was that she had been wearing the same outfit for several days straight.

Unusual thing for the Haruno Sakura he remembered from Team Seven. Kakashi didn't know if it were different in a positive way. Perhaps her new disinterest in personal presentation was due to a budding drive she had discovered in the Chuunin Exams. He thought more likely it was from the mounting desperation she might have felt in the months since Sasuke and Naruto's sudden departures from the village. There was less time for laundry and ironing and styling with team mates like those two.

Well,  _former teammates_ , if he were being blunt.

But a newly solitary genin – a discarded remnant of that loose fitting "team" – did not make a prime operative for such a complex and intimate mission like the one currently being proposed. That was Kakashi's opinion.

Nara Shikaku disagreed, and he reaffirmed to those in the room, "her sincere vulnerability is exactly what makes her that much more appropriate for this mission."

There were four of them in the Office of the Godaime Hokage: Kakashi, Shikaku, Shizune, and Tsunade. From his observations, Kakashi deduced the party was equally divided on the issue. Kakashi was disgruntled at the fact Tsunade seemed to be considering the prospect of placing her student in a snafu scenario.

As she had assembled this meeting, then he figured she was close to authorizing the mission.

"Haruno is bright, talented..." Shikaku went on.

"Lonely. Insecure," Shizune interrupted the other man, quiet but firm in her tone. She was on Kakashi's side; she knew how devastating the mission would be for Sakura.

"If she is as unreliable as you are insinuating then maybe we should pull her from serving the village altogether," was Shikaku's quick response, impatient and unfamiliar with the resistance he was receiving. He looked to their leader, inquisitive and plainly goading. "I know we're going for the image of an incompetent and malleable student, but have you really chosen your apprentice so poorly?"

"Don't be glib, brat, it's unlike you." Tsunade was shifted to one side in her seat, jaw resting on a palm as she glared at something indiscernible. Her thoughtful silence was increasingly worrisome. To the baited question, she said finally, "no, I'm confident in my assessment of Sakura. Not everyone can acknowledge it, but she's stubborn and at times loyal to a fault."

"She's blindly loyal to certain things," Kakashi clarified, thinking of Sakura's former attachments. "It's not always been a good quality."

Tsunade raised an eyebrow and he sensed a bitterness seeping from her. "From what I have gathered you ignored her development as a kunoichi due to prejudiced bias. I did not invite you to this meeting as a character witness."

Kakashi breathed a little more roughly from his nose – not an insulted huff, certainly – but that was the only reaction he allowed.

"You're here because I want you to be her contact," Tsunade said, assuming correctly the question he had been about to ask. "You can then relay information to Shizune. More opportunities for tainted information and a lag in relevance, but this needs to stay buffered. As it is, Danzo has little interest in you these days."

Ignoring her barb, Kakashi redirected his energy. "How do we know he's recruiting? Someone her age, he probably thinks she's too old to –"

"He had someone try to scout my son."

Three people uncomfortably shifted their gazes to Nara Shikaku. The man had his shoulders slouched down and he took a moment find a pack of cigarettes from a pocket on his vest. Waiting for a resigned eye-roll and a nod of approval from the Fifth, he put a stick to his mouth and lit it for a slow inhale and exhale of smoke.

"When was Shikamaru approached?" Shizune asked, sounding more sympathetic than earlier.

"After his promotion," Shikaku said. "It was a minor thing and Shika didn't bite being he's a little more clever than the recruiter they sent after him, told the guy, to uh - 'buzz off,' let's say. But now I'm certain that old dog is sniffing around for new blood."

This was news to Kakashi - he had assumed ANBU Root had been out of the poaching game for a few years. It was unpleasant realizing he had been wrong about that, and it did explain Shikaku's sudden desire for action. Nothing stirred an honorable father so much as a threat to his family.

"Danzo would have use for someone with medical training," Shikaku started to lay out. "Haruno's lost her team – sorry Kakashi – and she's a fast learner who's eager to prove herself. She's in orbit to the Fifth. The girl is just as promising a find as any, and since I have an idea of how they operate at an entry stage, we can set up a situation to draw their interest in her."

"If he is still actively expanding his control and numbers, then..." Shizune said. "Maybe now especially that The Fifth is Hokage..."

Kakashi tensed. He could see how the tide was turning. Shizune had been out of the village for too long, was starting to accept there was more trouble from Danzo than was acceptable. Enough to sacrifice a pawn for the long play.

Danzo was a problem, Kakashi agreed with that; the village didn't need a dogmatic usurper taking any ground.

Tsunade dropped her hand from her chin to the desktop, sighed. "I'm not going to make a decision on this yet."

For a moment, a bit of reason seemed to have returned to his commander and Kakashi felt a blip of triumph. It died when he studied her face more closely, saw the way her hand sought out the pendant that used to sit between her collarbones. Nothing was there for her grip to find and the automatic, unfilled movement made a crease appear between Tsunade's brow.

Tsunade was the legacy of the First and she was not going to idle by as her village splintered away. She could not put the responsibility off any longer.

She was going to act.

-o-

The mission briefing had not yet happened, and even when it did, Kakashi understood that Sakura would not be aware of his role yet. Actually, the mission was going to be presented in a very vague manner and he had a problem with that, but understood the reasoning for it. She could only give away as much information as she knew, and at this stage in the operation, there were things that needed to be kept from her.

He wasn't pleased with the situation, but at least he wasn't being hurt by it – not like Sakura was at the moment.

They were passing each other on a street, seemingly by chance but actually by his careful orchestration, and she had seen him, waved immediately with a greeting. Kakashi had looked from his reading to glance at a spot in her general direction, feigned 'feigning not to see her,' and kept moving. A few weeks prior, he had done something similar – let her see him, try to reach out to him, only for Kakashi to brush her off.

All in the name of duty.

Part of the success behind a program like the one Danzo ran had to do with profiling the right type of person to indoctrinate. The very young, the desperate, those who were in need. The set-up at the moment was to make Sakura some of all those things by emotionally isolating her.

Shikaku, acting as the Commanding Officer for the mission, had been manipulating Sakura's connections over the past several months. He had suggested for Tsunade to give more missions to her parents, longer hours in solo training, less interactive tasks at the medical facilities and hospital. He had even managed to get her friends to avoid her through the guise of training and missions.

It was a show for Danzo but it was a reality for Sakura, pushing her to an ever more pathetic and enticing point of weakness. Little fissures in her stability that promised a satisfying break and the chance to build her back up in a new image.

Kakashi was meant to be the final straw for Sakura. He had been purposefully keeping distance until she seemed to be nearing the end of her endurance, only to obviously blow her off.

Shikaku wanted her appeal to Danzo to be sincere, and in the most despicable way, it had been working. Kakashi had caught onto someone circling her. They were there for intelligence and not yet for contact, but that would come soon enough.

He passed her on the street without a hitch in his stride, and from his peripheral vision saw the way Sakura's hopeful wave twitched before she slowly lowered her hand.

The cracks were getting wider.

The next time they met Kakashi was seated by himself in a sentimental place for Team Seven. When Sakura felt particularly sentimental, she would take a long route home by the ramen stand Naruto always begged them to visit. Kakashi had been trailing her earlier and seen her start to head in this direction of the city and made his move.

Also watching Sakura, and with no obvious awareness of Kakashi, was another nin. They had been watching her more often, more closely, in the weeks since Kakashi and Sakura had crossed paths last. They spied on her from afar, and although Kakashi and others suspected some of the clans had been infiltrated by Danzo's reach, the technique wasn't something he recognized.

While they relied on jutsu for their work, Kakashi was taking the mundane and exceptionally useful tactic of acting and cultivating means to a specific end.

If his plan worked, then that evening the spy would likely make their move as well.

Kakashi had his mask down, his book put away, empty seats next to him, and he looked temptingly approachable. If she missed seeing him there, or if she decided to continue on her way without stopping, then he had alternative actions he could take.

Sakura proved to fall into nostalgia that evening, and the opportunity of seeing her old sensei eating alone in Ichiraku was too much to ignore. She was predictable in that way.

Less predictable was her stride upon approaching him, the way she slapped money down on the counter to cover his meal, and her defiant stare at him. Kakashi's mask was back in place by the time she reached him, but he doubted Sakura's ire was in relation to that.

He didn't intend to say anything, but Sakura was quick to talk.

"Are you mad at me?" She almost demanded.

This reaction was low on his least of possibilities and he hadn't anticipated the question at all. Coolly, Kakashi glanced at her, still refusing to face her, and made a show of tidying his area and utensils as he finished his meal.

"I can understand other things," Sakura said, "like Ino being busy. My mom needing to go back on active duty after the Invasion. Both my parents working long and weird hours. I can understand a lot of those things. But you –  _you're ignoring me_."

Kakashi made another detached show of sighing, being bothered, and slowly getting up from his seat. He waved a thanks to the woman behind the bar and started ambling out of the restaurant. Sakura was on his heels.

"You know you left without warning to train Sasuke for the exams, right? Took off without mentioning to me where Naruto would be, remember?"

He hadn't thought about it very much, but she wasn't wrong. Although, he could've sworn he sent Pakkun out with a message to her. ...Had meant to, at least.

"And you know, I should also mention that time you  _lied_  to me about the curse mark. You said that to spare my feelings, but you lied to your student and a teammate, so that's not clearly something to put in the 'pro' column."

How long had she been keeping this pros and cons list for him?

"You never got around to teaching me any genjutsu! You said I might have a talent for it –  _you're_  supposedly good at it – and you never taught me anything."

They were walking towards a bar down the street, though he wouldn't guess Sakura suspected as much. He let her continue her rambling, not knowing its culmination, but not concerned with it either. It didn't matter what she said – only that she was crushed by the end of their interaction.

"There's a rumor, too, that you didn't even want me to go up for promotion at all. You just wanted it for the boys. Thanks for that. A lot of faith there." Pressing her lips together, Sakura frowned and waited for a response.

Kakashi was mildly curious as her steps slowed. They were along the wall to the bar where he planned to split away and Sakura seemed to have finally caught on to his destination and intent to shake her.

"Look!" She nearly shouted, but it was like a loud sort of exasperated whisper. An angry hiss. Sakura planted her feet, crossed her arms over her chest, first glared at the sky and then sighed, dropping her gaze to the ground. She was both annoyed and sad. "I'm sorry."

Kakashi stopped a few feet from the entrance, his first acknowledgment Sakura had said anything or that she was there.

She took a steadying breath, and on that same exhalation, "I never said anything to you beforehand and I'm just... I'm sorry I left you, too."

Oh, so she had been thinking like that this whole time.

He felt he had to say something.

"Sakura," and her name was heavy from his lips, "when you approached our Hokage, I had already put in for reassignment."

Kakashi gave her a bland smile, the one he reserved for false promises and cheering her up. How many times had he given this girl this particular facade of a smile? How many more times would she get to know false faces?

Turning from her again, he ducked into the age-restricted establishment. He didn't need to see her to know how the comment affected her, Kakashi felt the hit land. Could have heard something shattering as it did.

-o-

Sakura didn't want to go home.

Her father was on a week long assignment outside of the village and her mother was recently back from another mission, likely still asleep and recovering from the renewed strains of active duty. Sakura wanted her to rest without any interruptions.

She left Kakashi at his sinkhole of a drinking spot and wandered the streets of her childhood neighborhood to pass time. The next shift Sakura had was working in the labs the following afternoon and her morning training was an independent exercise. She could afford her indulgent moping around the village as the night settled in. It was a good way not to feel alone when she was very much alone.

A bench across from a stretch of nightlife stands and venues served as her observation perch. The sounds of relaxation were a nice soundtrack for her as Sakura cleaned and oiled her weapons after the day's use. It was almost like she was a part of the conversations that echoed her way, almost like she could laugh with the stories and jokes she overheard.

She wasn't veiling hurt feelings or anything like that by vicariously living through strangers. Definitely not. It wasn't like she was using their merriment to shield the noises gurgling in her throat from the stinging in her eyes.

"Oiling a brand new tanto?"

Sakura clamped down on the tightness in her chest and looked up from her work to find that someone actually was talking to her. Smartly, she replied, "huh?"

Seeing her face, the boy talking to her dropped his jaw. "Hey! You're Haruno Sakura, aren't you? The apprentice to the Hokage?"

Blood rushed to her face and Sakura nodded. The boy was her age, a shinobi, and he was sort of familiar. He reminded her of Sasuke, except that the boy had an expression almost like he was...impressed? By her?

Sakura made a half-hearted attempt to straighten her shoulders, to meet the image befitting Tsunade's student. "That's me, yes."

"Haven't had a chance to use that tanto yet, though..." the boy said, and he sat on the arm of Sakura's bench. She thought it was a bit rude of him, saying that, but then he made a thoughtful noise. "You're learning her medical ninjutsu – that's what everyone is saying. So learning things like the tanto might not be a priority... That can happen when you work with a special ninjutsu teacher. Mine is definitely that way..."

She was uncertain about the boy, but he seemed friendly, and the last thing he said caught her attention. Sakura tried not to sound too interested, "are you also someone's apprentice?"

"Kind of. It's just me and my sensei." The boy lifted a shoulder. "It's hard being in a two-man, mixed level team sometimes."

Sakura thought back to Team Seven and agreed. Having team mates on a different level was frustrating at the least. Tormenting and debilitating at the worst of times. Studying under the Hokage was an inspiring environment, but she often felt the sting of inadequacy in her mentor's presence.

Unwilling to share those thoughts, she said, "I didn't know that it was a common setup."

"Not all of us are suited for team learning, I guess." The boy gave her a smile, his eyes and lips closed and it was a shy attempt, Sakura thought. And then, hopping back to his feet, he was taking off with a wave. "Any way, cool meeting you."

"W-wait!" Sakura got to her feet, too. Her day had been a long one, she looked and felt miserable, but she also felt a building emotion in her middle and she had to say something. "What's your name?"

Pointing to himself, he asked, "me? I'm Sai."

The name was new to her and she didn't recognize him from the academy. Everything about Sai was a little stiff, rehearsed, shy with uncertainty despite his confidence in approaching her. And yet, Sakura thought they might get along. She hoped they might get along.

She needed  _someone_.

"If you..." Sakura said, licking her lips for the dryness there, "I don't know if you'd want to, but maybe we could train together sometime?"

Sai smiled again. "Sure, I guess. I'll see you around."

The feeling in her middle swelled.

Sakura beamed, alone once more.

 

.

.

.

-o-


	2. The Tinder

_come in close a stinging in your throat_

-o-

Sakura hit Sai once in the middle, unleashed a little chakra that made him double over and puke up bile, and the spar was finished.

For weeks she had let him beat her in their matches. Sakura had watched and chronicled his jutsu, his favored tactics, his style, and had let him win each time they fought. She gave away nothing of her own skill set other than the basics and allowed him to show his own hand well before he might ever realize she was playing the long game. When she beat him that morning, it was a quick affair full of calculated traps and forcing Sai to move to her advantage. She took away his safety of the mid-range attack and brought him into a taijutsu confrontation. A few quick hits augmented with medical ninjutsu and Sakura had Sai on his knees, down for the count.

Maybe it was a bit unfair to have him throwing up from her hit, but there was only so much underestimating Sakura could deal with before she wanted to show off a little. Besides, the boy had made a few too many gibes at Tsunade's expense for Sakura's pride to handle. The woman was her mentor and their Hokage, and it was time for Sai to reacquaint himself with the fact.

Like the other times they had met up, it was predawn and they were out in one of the training grounds specifically meant for nighttime use. The space was a large enclosure filled with natural and man made obstacles, wired with lights and other electronics for various uses. The two had forgone any electronics and were testing out their vision in the natural nautical sunrise. Sakura had fared better by using ninjutsu to enhance and stabilize her eyesight faster and more accurately.

Sai was close enough Sakura could feel the warmth of his body radiating through the morning chill and she indulged in how sparring with him was a nice excuse to be physically near someone. Any time she tried to secretly, mundanely, inch near him when they weren't sparring, he seemed too aware of her intentions. His own evident awkwardness kept them from developing a natural sort of sync that Sakura shared with other friends - mainly Ino and Naruto, with whom Sakura was effortlessly in tune.

And she wasn't even sure if she could qualify Sai as a 'friend' just yet. He was closer to a mildly polite and accommodating acquaintance. He wasn't an Ino by any means. Not yet.

"Interesting use of chakra just then," Sai said, wiping away saliva from his mouth once he was finished heaving. He was only then catching onto her tricks, having found suddenly a new appreciation for Sakura's strengths. "What gave you the idea for that sort of application?"

Sakura thought back to the Sound nin boy she had fought in the Forest of Death, and the way he had likewise brought that man Kabuto to his knees at the start of the exams. To Sai, she said innocently, "did I do something special?"

"Your tactic was clever and a long ploy to stay dedicated to." The response came with Sai's characteristic smile. "I suppose my superior's assessment of you was correct after all. He told me to be cautious and to expect the unexpected."

' _Look underneath the underneath._ ' Over a year had passed since Kakashi had first said something like that to Team Seven.

"Isn't that what every sensei tells their students?" Sakura was sat down in the grasses next to Sai, and from the ground between them she plucked a weed. She rolled the stem with her fingers and twisted at its leaf sprouts. "Don't you think the fact you have specialized ninjutsu is way more useful than a statement any person can lift from a manual?"

"Hm. Maybe."

Flipping the weed stem around, she made its end tickle a trail up Sai's arm. He caught her eye and shifted his arm a little, but did nothing else to address the teasing. Sakura pouted and went back to stripping off its appendages.

"Can you do me a favor?" Sai asked after a moment and Sakura thought he was going to admonish her about something, but instead he asked about her bruises from previous mornings. Motioning to his own neck, he said of her bruises, "they're always gone by the next day. I never thought much about it, but now I'm wondering if you did the healing yourself."

"Did you think someone else was doing it before?"

"It seemed possible," he said.

It was a habit of Sai's to not directly commit to answers, not even simple ones. And if it wasn't a question she said to him, it was often the case he had nothing to say in response.

Sakura turned to him more fully, nervous and excited. Hopeful. Sai had mentioned looking for a favor from her, so she asked, "would you like me to heal you?"

"I want to watch your technique," he said at the same time.

Her smile faltered and her shoulders lost some of their eager lift. "Oh. On myself, you mean?"

"If you weren't opposed."

That morning Sakura's most debilitating injury was a half inch long splinter on the side of her big toe. She gave the 'wound' an unimpressed face. When she had first started training with Team Seven, Kakashi had once held her foot in hand and removed a splinter with the edge of his kunai and a pair of tweezers. He had made fun of Sakura and her feet for their softness then and to her his experienced hands had felt like sand paper.

Her feet were still soft to the touch and free of callouses, but not from lack of training like those days. Now they were soft from her skilled, healing attention.

Sakura formed the required hand seals and the long splinter was pushed from her toe by the new tissue she generated underneath. It was a quick and painless process.

"Ta-da," she said of the underwhelming endeavor. She felt a little useless with the exercise.

"Huh," was Sai's similarly unaffected reaction.

"I realize that was nothing much to look at." There was so much more she could do, though. If she had the injuries on her like that time after her fight against the Oto trio, she could really show off her skills. A splinter was just that! A mere splinter of the abilities she had now. Sakura bit at her lower lip and felt frustrated as she considered her unblemished foot and Sai's blank expression.

She really could do so much more.

"Ok, watch this," she insisted after a moment. After removing her sandal, Sakura took her tanto from her lower back and unsheathed the blade. Stretching out the same sandal-less leg a little in front of her, she rested the steel at the tendon above her bared heel. From a glance, she saw Sai draw his brow to a sharp line, and she felt emboldened to follow through with the action even as her hand trembled.

She had deliberately injured herself in the past. It was for the protection of her team mates, sure, and other people had been doing the injuring, but she had technically done it before. Pressing the metal into her skin, Sakura forced her arm to stop shaking with the exerted pressure. She took a deep breath. More pressing and a countdown in her head.

Sakura wasn't the one holding the tanto to her leg. It wasn't even her leg at all. This was just another demonstration. An anonymous action.

One simple  _slice_.

There was, in her mind's eye, a Sakura who wailed in agony, convulsed with heaves and sickness as she crashed to her side and clutched at her gushing, blazing leg. A pathetic, lamenting thing thrashing in blood. And then there was the Sakura in reality, who dropped her tanto and made more hand seals with her red and slippery fingers, who looked through watery eyes to complete her jutsu and sew together the tissue she had just cut apart.

Sakura sat back, smeared blood across her cheeks as she wiped tears from her face. An intensive surgery and eight months recovery time was the typical result of the severed tendon she had just healed in a matter of minutes. Her leg might be stiff tomorrow, but even that she could counter in another quick session.

She panted in exertion and gave Sai a bright smile. "Neat, right?"

"My superior was definitely right," Sai reiterated. His expression was still ambiguous, but his eyes were intent as he met her gaze. "I think he might be interested in meeting you."

.

.

.

-o-


	3. The Flint

_slip into the veins, there's coal beneath the skin_

-o-

Static raised the downy hairs on her arms.

It was sometime before dawn and the firebugs were out, buzzing around low in the air as dry lightning raged ceaselessly in the sky thunder was a quiet, far off rumbling, the wind a strangely muted stirring in the leaves, and the rain a coming promise. A storm system churning in the night that she would normally watch from her bedroom window, 'oou-ing' at particularly close bolts of lightning.

But Sakura was not lounging comfortably in her bedding, but rather clinging with sweat-damp hands to a branch high in the canopy of her typical training grounds. The saturated heat was oppressive that night, sapping water from her body, drenching her clothes, and making her body especially reluctant to move. Everything around her was slick with film and her skin was a cloying magnet for any type of debris, making her a gritty coating of dust and dirt. She had hair caught in her eyes, hair matted to her neck and cheeks, hair stuck in the corners of her mouth. She tasted salt and iron, courtesy of the blood spilled from her nose.

Worse yet, she could barely keep herself awake.

The past week had been a cycle of lab research, hours dedicated to storing chakra in the immature Byakugou seal, and her daily training regiment. Sakura couldn't remember if she had eaten full meals, had any dreams when she slept, or if she had even had a conversation with another person beyond, 'could you transcribe these notes for me?'

How she had made it to the grounds to meet Sai eluded her. Remembering the start of their sparring session eluded her, too, for that matter.

He must have landed a hit at some point for her nose to be bleeding.

And then what had happened?

It was sort of amusing to her that the bloody nose crusting over her upper lip felt no worse or different from the sweat layering over her everywhere else. Sakura would have rubbed at the mess if she weren't so damn hot and sleepy.

She had sent out clones at some earlier point, she thought, and was waiting for a trap to be sprung somewhere...

Her chin dipped, and she heard or felt the rough slide of her fingers from the tree bark, her sandals from the tree branch.

Darkness, but only briefly.

What better a wake-up method than accidentally plummeting to the forest floor twenty odd meters below her?

The sudden influx of adrenaline from impending mortality did wonders for one's alertness.

Sakura gasped awake and was able to slow her decent with wire and kunai. She hit the ground hard and went into a roll to lessen the impact, although her muscles had tensed from the jolt and were difficult to loosen up for the hasty maneuver. She came up right on one knee, the other tucked under her, and Sakura stayed in that position for a breath before dropping to her side. On her back she laughed a harsh, short sound, and threw an arm over her eyes to hide her exhaustion and embarrassment.

Sai was quick to find her.

"You're not broken," he said when he dropped down from the canopy to join her. He'd seen her fall.

"Don't sound so relieved," she quipped, a little annoyed with Sai's monotone. She raised her forearm a little to peer at him in the dim light, saw him raise a shoulder at her disparaging face.

"If you'd broken something, you would have healed it anyway."

Sakura groused, "not my  _spine!_ "

Another shrug from Sai and she bit her tongue. Her eyes became hot and started to sting, so she replaced her arm to rub at them discreetly, and then pushed herself back up.

Before they could say anything more, a third person appeared from the trees. Sakura was a little surprised by the man's arrival, but Sai was unfazed.

"Is she okay?" The man asked after he landed, his young voice muffled from behind his porcelain mask.

ANBU.

For one, ridiculous moment, Sakura thought the man was there on her behalf, that he was some sort of security for the Apprentice to the Hokage. But then she recognized how he spoke familiarly with Sai and the grand idea was squashed.

"I'm not entirely certain," Sai assessed, thoughtful.

"I meant – is she injured from the fall, Sai?"

"Oh, that. No. She is fine."

The man turned to look at Sakura, stared out from the black holes of his mask for a long span of seconds without saying anything. He looked otherworldly in his dark outfit and white mask, bizarre and brilliant with every flash of lightning. Sakura felt exposed, sprawled out in the forest floor and too tired, too overwhelmed to respond to him politely – or at all. She flushed at his observations, moved only from surprise when he nodded, satisfied with something, and leaped away to the canopy once more.

"What the hell was that?" She spoke aloud, somewhat rhetorically.

Sai answered her, not nearly so disturbed, "that was Ken. My sensei."

"Your teacher is ANBU?" Sakura couldn't stop her shocked expression, but suddenly things about Sai made more sense. An orphan raised by a soldier in a mask made for poor socialization skills, she reasoned. No wonder Sai was so well trained in special techniques. Sakura was impressed. "I didn't know that was even possible. How cool is that, though?"

Sai, on the other hand, was confused. He pointed out, "your teacher is a kage."

"Yeah, well, still cool," Sakura fumbled. Then, belatedly, "wait –  _he_  was your sensei? And he was here? But...didn't you say he wanted to meet me?"

"I said I thought he might be interested in meeting you. He must still be thinking it over."

Sakura frowned.

"He is not the best at speaking with people," Sai explained after a beat.

"Uh-huh," she said, not surprised. Feeling her exhaustion again, Sakura sighed and curled into herself, pressing her chin to her raised knees. "I think I'm done for this morning."

Dawn hadn't yet broken.

"Not a fan of the rain?"

Water drops had started making their way through the leaves and down to where they stayed on the ground. The wind was quieter where they were, but even the firebugs had finally taken cover.

Sakura shook her head. "I'm just tired."

Sai was neutral over her decision, showing none of the weakness she felt. He moved into a more comfortable seated position next to her, saying, "if you think it's best."

She was silent, watching him in her peripheral as Sai retrieved something from his pouch. She had thought it would be something like a snack, or water, but it was a small, paper wrapped parcel that he took out. From inside the paper he selected a single, oval shaped pill.

"Really? You're taking that now? You're not in the field." Sakura had always thought Soldier Pills were a mission-only resort.

"This isn't like that," Sai said, unperturbed. "It keeps the mind a little more focused."

He saw her curious staring and guessed at her thoughts. Popping the pill into his mouth, he said around it, "you don't need this."

Her immediate, indignant, response was that she more than him, could definitely use a helpful stimulant in her life. Coffee was only going so far these days.

"I know that," she grumbled back instead. "I'm just not used to seeing stuff like that is all."

Sai crushed the pill in his teeth and again made a vague shrugging gesture. "I suppose it might be an ANBU thing."

Sakura 'hmmed' into her knees, tried not to let her eyes stay closed too long, tried not to think of how soon she would need to report to her lab shift.

Is that how other people managed, she wondered, through such means?

"If you're sitting out, I'll continue on my own then." Sai got to his feet, stretched an arm over his chest, then the other. He looked up to the rain, falling more heavily, and took out a brush and ink. He offered, "not the ideal conditions, but neither is the mission always."

Sai spoke almost conversationally and it made her straighten in her seat. He didn't want to continue alone, she thought.

Sakura swallowed the tired lump in her throat. She had been sloppy while sparring and multiple people had seen her slip up. Somewhere in the vicinity was a man who served the Hokage directly as a member of her personal guard and, when compared to his own student, his impression of Sakura was a careless, fainting, and uncommitted child.

' _He must still be thinking it over,_ ' Sai had said.

Before the boy could leave her too, "wait."

Sakura wasn't ready to rest.

"Let's go another round."

.

.

-o-

 


	4. The Spark

_golden rot the devil said he'd take the lot_

-o-

After taking place under Tsunade's tutelage, after all the preparations she had endured to become a skilled medic-nin, Sakura thought she should have beaten Sai easily in their spars.

She hadn't.  _Couldn't_. Not at the ratio she wanted. As clever as she was, as capable of dodging as she was, as powerful as her hits were – Sai was more efficient and brutal in his approach to training. He didn't have the same instincts of reservation that she did.

Sakura was beginning to think she wasn't more of an opponent for him in spars because of the distractions from her worries and emotions.

For one thing, and it was silly of her, Sakura thought, but she still checked her mailbox every day to see if Ino or Naruto had sent her any letters. Naruto would have been unlikely, considering his attention span, but that Ino hadn't written was strange. Before they had split apart as friends, they had made a tradition of penpaling and now that they were renewed friends but unable to meet, she thought the old system might have been revived. None of the letters Sakura had sent had been answered.

It was upsetting.

"You're too old for that sort of thing," Sai told her after Sakura shared her lamentations.

They were hydrating after a round of chasing each other in a mid-range styled bout. Early in the morning but the training area was alight and she and Sai were sitting on the stacked benches under the reach of the high beams. While she talked, Sakura was watching the progress of a spider with seven legs trying to crawl between her and Sai. So far it was struggling to stay upright let alone move any. More than once it fell to its back and curled into a ball. She poked it to spur it on again.

"Relationships are not just for the young, you know? Trust and common bonds in life and death situations are important. Teammates are important."

She had learned as much in the academy and thought she still appreciated the concept – if somewhat abstractly given the state of her own team.

Sai was watching her prodding at the spider, trying to keep it moving.

"Yeah, but she has her own teammates," he said. "You just need to accept things. Move on."

He put his thumb over the spider and pressed down until Sakura heard a little  _pop_.

-o-

One good thing to come out of the mission was the new community outreach clinic, set up as a front for his clandestine meetings with Sakura, but otherwise a functional facility.

Tsunade had been systematically opening similar care centers throughout the village since taking office as Hokage, ones that served civilians and retirees, only this particular location had a hand picked medic-nin staff and carefully installed security features, hidden entrances, shadow rooms. A limited number of people knew of its secondary purpose as a 'safe house.' Three people would ever know its purpose in relation to Sakura's mission.

To Sakura, attending clinic hours was merely another task given to her by her mentor, an opportunity to learn more about public health and hygiene, to practice preventive medicines and measures.

If the jounin ANBU Root had never approached Sakura, that clinic facade might have been the reality for her.

But, as it was, the ANBU had approached her in the last week and she had finally – unfortunately – garnered attention from Danzo's Root team.

Mission Start and it was Kakashi's lovely task to break the news to its recipient. He waited for Sakura in the subterranean level room of the One-Eleventh Street Clinic, ready to open the passage for her once she had unsealed a particular scroll from the Hokage and followed its instructions. The scroll had come with Sakura from her meeting with the Hokage that morning and inside, as Kakashi understood, there was a plain message detailing a private meeting at a specified time and location to take place in the clinic.

So many buffered, furtive steps before Kakashi and Sakura could even talk, but he was patient.

Kakashi thought, 'no more good things from here on out,' and waited.

Sakura was as prompt and professional as she had been as a genin in Team Seven, and so when she got to the part of her orders to wait for her contact's appearance by the corner of the empty specimens' room, she stood quietly and issued the slightest ' _eep!_ ' of surprise when Kakashi pulled her through a hidden sliding panel.

He recreated the genjutsu on the outside of the panel and then clicked on the lights in the room before he faced his former student.

The fluorescent lighting was unforgiving, draining the color from Sakura's face, exaggerating her shadows of sleeplessness, the sharpness of exertion, and the fraying of stress at her edges. Her eyes were wide and tired, confused as she took him in, but then she was exploring the room they were in with calculated, curious glances. Taking stock of her surroundings in a very astute manner.

Kakashi remembered he had no idea how to talk to this Sakura as she waited for him to say something. A year of training under Tsunade and already she had been without Kakashi for twice the length she had been with him. She was older, she was more knowledgeable, more independent, more valuable an asset than he knew how to handle. He didn't think she would faint any more at the sight of a severely beaten and chewed up teammate. She'd probably seen much worse by now.

Mercy, how she was changing.

(And how was she to change?)

Her greeting was short, too polite, and wary. She didn't appear overly pleased to see Kakashi in the room with her.

Replying coolly, he said, "yo."

Sakura rolled her eyes. "I should have known I was meeting you. I was in that room for half and hour waiting for your signal."

Right. Kakashi had let that happen; he had let his reluctance slow his actions.

He wanted to preserve Sakura's last innocent image of her village and its forces – he hadn't wanted to shatter that glass yet.

Or something.

Kakashi stuffed his hands into his pant pockets, let his eyes find an innocuous spot in the room. In explanation, "got caught up in a good chapter."

"Of course." Sakura was unamused. With a huff, she reopened the scroll in her hands. She said in a murmur, "this is by far the strangest way I've received a message from Shishou and she's sent me notes tied to a pig."

Her comment and wry delivery almost made Kakashi smile, but he quelled the expression.

"This is a mission briefing, actually," he said, correcting her. About the scroll, "lay that out on the ground."

Through his mask, Kakashi bit into his thumb, drew blood there, and motioned for Sakura to do the same. Eying his tactic with some hesitance, she forewent a canine in favor of pricking her digit with a chakra scalpel. The scroll glowed a warm gold as they both simultaneously unsealed it. Stored inside were files and a description of their mission requirements as authorized by the Fifth.

The directive at the moment was for Sakura to record rhetoric delivered by the ANBU operative, 'Ken.'

No mention of Danzo, Root, or possible insubordination. Simple in-explicit surveillance.

Sakura frowned, hiding a more damning crestfallen expression as she read over the assembled papers and history on the jounin in question. If she were more like Naruto, she would have voiced, 'but why?' or shared her discomfort with the mission. Instead she nodded and clarified points on her means of keeping and sharing the material she might collect. When she did take time to ask him a question that was technically out of line it was quiet and hesitant. More obfuscation of sadness.

"Is this man connected to Orochimaru?" She asked, not bold enough to meet Kakashi's gaze as they huddled over a spread of photographs, mission logs, income and living records. Sakura looked so hopeless in the unpleasant lighting.

Months ago he would have put a hand on her head and smiled, would have said, 'you don't have to worry about that.'

He was condescending in a different manner in his response, though he didn't intend for it to sound as much. "If he is or is not, you should treat this mission seriously, Sakura."

It sounded harsh to his own ears and he was unsurprised when Sakura gave a wounded flinch at the reprimand.

What had been his goal with that statement? To tell her to focus on the current situation and not distract herself over Sasuke?

Had he meant to be consoling?

Because if so, then he was getting even more abysmal in his attempts to comfort her than his previous tendency to downplay any troubling developments.

He felt the impulse to reach out to her and amend his reassurance, but he didn't act fast enough and Sakura leaned back out of reach and made to end the meeting. Her demeanor shifted, a coolness touching her features.

"I understand my directions," she said.

Kakashi stared at her, tried to find an opening in her body language to again try for an apologetic gesture, but she was closed off to him. He dismissed her and they didn't talk again for weeks.

He wasn't very pleased with himself, either.

-o-

Sakura's new mission was a bit thrilling and a bit frustrating. She was eager for the opportunity to carry out her orders and impatient with the amount of time it took to actually get started. Her target was an elusive fellow that seemed impervious to her attempts to track him any time he might happen by after her spars with Sai. He was very adept at disappearing and she was equally as inept in espionage.

So she was surprised when the man approached her one evening when she was once again dragging out her walk home, trying to get herself lost in memories of a happier time as she meandered her way down a busy commercial street.

"Sakura," someone said, making her spin around.

The person who said her name was at first unfamiliar. He looked different than she had expected without his mask, but then she recognized Ken. He could have almost passed for a civilian in his plain clothes, but there was to her the unmistakable air of a shinobi about him. Eyes too old for his face, shoulders a little too straight, muscles set to spring just in case.

In a crowded space and yet that same feeling of vulnerability from her first encounter with the man returned to her. And now she was meant to be spying on him.

"Walk with me to the fountain?" Ken asked her, an arm extended in invitation. "It would be a waste to spend a beautiful evening alone."

A blush warmed her cheeks because her first - flighty and foolish - thought was that it was a charming, flirtatious gesture from a very decent looking man.

It was actually a pretense to talk privately in a conveniently white noise-washed setting. The running water of the square's decorative garden was disruptive to prying ears and the appearance of the two lingering in such a place was unassuming.

Sakura stopped fussing over her hair and indecent appearance as she took a tentative seat on the fountain's edge. Sai's sensei was smiling and admiring the star dotted sky from his seat next to her. He was at ease and relaxed when he spoke to her.

"It's impressive how you're training under the Fifth. Your growth as a kunoichi has truly opened up in an unexpected way."

Her thanks was awkward and she hoped she didn't sound quite as insulted as she felt.

"But do you know why it's impressive?" Ken was still looking upwards, his profile to her.

Sakura traced the lines of his face, he was young and sun warmed and his hair framed his jawline nicely. She shook her head.

"Because, truthfully," and here his smile was sardonic, "you were chosen to be the third teammate to Uchiha Sasuke and Uzumaki Naruto specifically for the fact you were plain, nonthreatening, and a tempered ointment to an otherwise contentious balance of forces."

Sakura's silence was evidence enough of her confusion and she was happy for the water's noise covering the jump of her heart's beating.

"But of course that must be hard for you to follow when you still understand so little of your situation. I'm surprised your mentor keeps you so secluded in the dark. Keeping from you the full story of the last member of our village's Uchiha clan and of our very own Demon Fox container... "

"What are you talking about?" Sakura could feel her hand shaking as the man flashed her a teasing grin.

"I'm so happy you asked, Sakura, because there's a lot you deserve to hear."

.

.

.

-o-

 


	5. The Smoke

_the line on a spin take the angel's wings_

-o-

Sakura was fourteen years old and she was being seduced.

Not in the way she imagined proper seduction went – not with heavy and lingering glances and secretive, burning touches – but with his words. Sai's teacher was pulling her towards him with knowledge and the tempting thought that he respected her enough to tell her information so many of her mentors had withheld from her. He made her insides flutter in the most unusual, satisfying manner.

In her childhood bedroom, alone in her home, Sakura was still trying to calm down after her brief encounter with Ken. Her body was buzzing with excitement, resentment, and a strange, wonderful cacophony of feelings. The tiredness that seemed to have possessed her for months on end was a distant memory and she could not contain her racing thoughts and how they made her pace about and fidget. For the first time in months, she felt like a kunoichi again, even if there were turmoil in her feelings, too.

It was good that she didn't have to write about her own reactions to her mark in her surveillance reports. Her duty was not to write a diary, but merely a regurgitation of facts.

Sakura would start, 'Ken broke the village-wide, age-restricted gag order when he told me the truth behind the circumstances of the Demon Fox container and the fact that one ostracized, abandoned, and ridiculed teammate and orphaned child, Uzumaki Naruto, was the Konoha village jinchuuriki. Thank you for the heads up and broadened perspective when I was on his team, by the way.'

Did that revelation and insubordination on Ken's part count as rhetoric?

She didn't think so...

More than that, what other secrets had she not been privy to? Especially ones that were, in her humble opinion, very pertinent to how she operated as a kunoichi.

She had been number one in written tests in her academy class and Sakura prided herself on knowing all the answers. But she hadn't known all the answers. She hadn't known all the questions she should have been asking.

For what reason had all the adults treated Naruto like a deplorable burden? (An attitude she had mimicked because that's just how children worked but oh how she now loathed herself for it.)

Where was Sasuke's family? (She had never noticed that incredible absence in her classmate's life and oh how she now loathed herself for it.)

More questions that haunted the edge of her thoughts, intangible and too large and terrible a thing for her to tackle at the moment...Why was she a kunoichi? What did it really mean to serve the village? Who was she – _what was she_ to her village leadership?

Sakura stopped her nervous movements, worrying a path between her furniture and piles of disorganized things, and tried to limit the scope of her spinning conjecturing to her current mission. She took a breath, released the tension in her body, and obtained for herself the terse objectivity Sai always held.

Sai. Sai and his sensei, Ken...

What a stretch of a coincidence for her mission concerning Ken to happen across her lap only after she had met Sai. Or rather, Sai had approached her. And then Ken had approached her and broken an oath to the village after she had accepted her mission…

Coincidence? No, Sakura determined, none of those things were incidental. There was something more happening around her.

Some sort of test, she posited. Perhaps she wasn't the first Ken had approached and for whom he had broken his village's oath.

Was what he had told her the truth?

She needed more information.

Late into the evening and Sakura put back on the gear she had finally managed to shed. She needed to shower, she could have used a clean set of clothing and a decent meal, a good night's rest. And yet -there would be time to sleep after a few hours in the library.

-o-

Sakura was sort of a poor researcher when finding the sources she needed was left to her as well. Reading and memorizing a textbook handed to her was perfectly fine, but taking the initiative to find materials on her own? She didn't have a very strong knack for that. The village was full of information and labyrinthine layers of secrets upon secrets. And she couldn't ask for anyone's help pointing her in the right direction, not unless she wanted everyone to know what she was doing.

So she had to be careful. She needed to work in plain sight while hiding her intentions like a well-trained operative. Not an easy task, she found, but she was getting better in her approach. Sakura had to go back further in the village time line to get a better understanding of more recent events – such as the death of the Fourth and the circumstances around the Demon Fox, such as the turbulence surrounding the Uchiha clan and village relations.

By the second week in her intermittent snooping she was found out.

The man approached her after she had left the Hokage Office Special Collections. His appearance had changed somewhat, disguised with genjutsu so that he looked her age, but Ken's voice was the same.

"Grab a coffee three blocks ahead, to the right, in the grocer's," Ken said, mumbling to her from where he shadowed her pace a step behind. "There's a back room where we can sit down."

Spying and sleuthing and secret meetings with mysterious figures… The same excited, electric feeling from her last meeting with Ken returned. As accomplished as Sakura was being the Fifth's apprentice, learning powerful new techniques and training as a medic-nin, it wasn't the same sort of thrill as being on missions. And this mission in particular -as a solo operative stepping deep into intrigue- was completely new territory to Sakura.

Intrigue. Sakura should not have been as surprised as she was that the concept applied to the operations of her village. But she had a simple background, despite everything, and she was a blindly loyal person at times. Most of the time, maybe.

Finding a table in the grocery, throwing down her piles and bags of books and scrolls and general things she needed throughout her day, Sakura slipped into a calm facade as she bought a coffee. No cream, no sugar, stinging hot and to the rim of the travel mug. She didn't wince when it burned at her lips and tongue, down her throat. She sat by herself at the bar styled table and waited.

When Ken came over to her, he was the perfect image of an unassuming young man who had dropped by the store to pick up what could have been a small list of mixings for his mother's dinner. He flashed a disarming, cavalier smile.

"You've had your head in the books lately. I've been wondering if I would ever get a chance to talk you." Ken was an actor; his body language, and attitude matched that of a cocky teen's. "Kunoichi are so hard to pin down."

"That's sort of my job," Sakura said, surprising herself when she didn't stumble on the words and returned his playful tone. She wondered how her body wasn't visibly shaking from her jumping pulse. "But you might have my attention now."

"Do I?" Ken moved closer to her, placed a hand on the back of her seat and leaned down to speak to her. "You've barely seen anything yet, apprentice."

As he pulled away, he tucked a piece of paper into her shirt collar, letting her know it was there with a lingering trail of his fingers.

"Then I guess I'll be seeing more of you," Sakura said as coolly as she could. Internally she was shivering.

"You'll know where to find me," he returned. Then he was gone.

-o-

Kakashi was balancing on the back legs of his seat when Sakura's signal came.

It was their second meeting in the hidden room of the One-Eleventh Street Clinic and Sakura came through the door looking more harangued than the last time they had seen one another. Her hair was longer and hanging loose over her shoulders, circles prominent under her eyes, and her jawline was evident in the loss of its youthful softness.

It was a stark change given he had been out of the village and hadn't seen her in over a month.

She was still curt and closed off to him when they spoke. Time hadn't healed anything, it seemed.

"Here's the report," she said, placing the scroll down on the table where he sat. She was looking hard at a spot on the floor to the right of his foot.

"It's thinner than I thought it would be." Kakashi noticed. It wasn't meant to be admonishing, but Sakura took it as much.

"I included everything remotely relevant. His rhetoric isn't as evident as I expected."

Kakashi raised an eyebrow. "How many times have you met with him?"

She must have decided to be petulant, because she said, "that's in the scroll, too."

"Right." She was definitely still mad with him. More mad than before, he thought.

"Is that all? Am I dismissed?"

Sitting forward to set his chair flat on the ground, he shrugged his shoulders. "Only if there's nothing else you would like to say to me."

He watched her face closely, trying to spot a flash of something in her expression. He frowned, unable to spot anything giving away her thoughts. An empty canvas.

"There's nothing else."

She was holding something back, he was certain. Nonetheless, and not quite wanting to say it, Kakashi let her go. "We'll meet here same time tomorrow. You're dismissed."

He stopped her name on his lips and let her leave undisturbed.

It was against protocol, and Tsunade wouldn't be happy with it, but Kakashi tore into the scroll the moment the door was sealed. He read her steady and neat handwriting and the crease between his eyes deepened as he moved further down the scroll.

"Shit," he breathed out.

Ken's method of turning Sakura was possibly the most successful approach – actually telling Sakura the truth of her teammates.

She knew about Naruto. She knew about Sasuke and Itachi. She knew about Akatsuki.

She was most definitely very mad with Kakashi for never having trusted her with more knowledge.

It wasn't in the scroll she provided, but he also suspected Sakura knew about her own positioning on Team Seven, the way her village had undervalued her and used her as an especially unwitting pawn from the very beginning.

Kakashi thought it would only be a matter of time before the allure of ANBU Root might draw her in.

.

.

.

-o-

 

 


	6. The Flame

_deception in how the moon shines, it's a pretty silver lie_

-o-

The evening was awash in dark grey mist and there was the promise of a cold night on her shoulders.

Sakura left the clinic with an eight hour shift behind her and a list of exercises from Tsunade still ahead of her. She might have been a ghost as she drifted past street stalls filled with crowds and the tempting smoke of freshly cooked food; neither her loneliness nor appetite stirred as she walked by. She wanted to be in the library stacks, surrounded by books and scrolls and maps and answers.

She wanted to be back in the secret room with her former sensei, loud and unrestrained in her frustration with him and her resentment. But that was a part of her she hushed away, stored down in her middle with all her fears and doubts and other worthless things. All her hindering facets she didn't need any more.

Sakura wanted to be secure in her knowledge more than anything. Already she was planning on limiting her sleep again, sneaking out after midnight, making her way to restricted records.

She wasn't planning for company, but it still caught her.

Sai caught her by the wrist, to be more precise.

He was in different clothing than she was used to, but he hadn't quite managed a casual look. To any critical eye he looked like a shinobi on duty, even without his standard gear. He dropped her wrist to stick his hands in his pockets, mimicking a carefree pose or perhaps trying to hide his discomfort.

"Nice night," he said, a bland smile on his lips. He was stiff and imperfect in the act; his body language was an inflexible imitation and his words too practiced to her ears.

Taking on some airiness of her own, Sakura replied, "I think I've seen better."

"Oh yeah?" Sai hedged his footing, then tightened his smile at the unintentional slip. He might have had a script as he told her, "I find that it's nights like these that the colors of the city shine brightest. All the lights once hidden now seem so clear."

Double-speak, as she had suspected. She felt an awful clenching in her chest, and at the same time, she bounced in her step and her shoulders were straight with eagerness. There was some tangible evidence of her previous conjecturing and it was making her fingers tingle.

Sakura 'hmmed,' thoughtful. She kept his metaphor, "so there is some illumination in the village that I've never before noticed."

"There's an even better viewing spot," he said, lightly spoken and very simply stated for what she thought his words to mean. It was almost a distracted thing to say, as he was busy pulling something from his pocket to occupy some movement. Not a stick of gum or even a cigarette, but what looked like another soldier pill.

"A better vantage point?" Sakura persisted, ignoring the way Sai crushed the pill between his teeth and let out a relieved little sigh.

"It's the most illustrious view of Konoha." Meeting her eyes, Sai assured her, "I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it."

Perhaps the most honest and sincere she had ever seen him. Sai's eyes were dark and the skin around his lashes was a deep pink. Tiny red veins showed there and Sakura let herself trace them to their short ends. Something about his eyes reminded her how tired she was.

A drizzling of rain had started in the village around them and Sakura was very cool as the water traced paths down her bare skin.

Was there warmth there yet for it to take?

"And you found this particular perspective on your own?" She asked Sai.

"I showed him."

Sakura was upset with herself for not noticing Ken's arrival. He was too close, too sudden for her to feel at ease. …And she didn't feel calm, but neither did she feel something entirely unpleasant. The man was under another genjutsu, another non-threatening visage; he knew how to blend in without sacrificing the unnamed  _something_  in his appearance that made her -that would make any person- feel confident in approaching him and keeping in his presence.

"I'll take it from here, kohai. She'll be there for your morning spar." Ken was youthful, assured, enticing. He held out an umbrella over Sakura for them to share.

She watched Sai dip his chin and turn away, and thought she wasn't very distraught to see him go.

"Let me show you, too?" Ken said to her, the two of them alone.

Sakura flushed and her veins were thrumming; she was alive yet.

She nodded.

-o-

Kakashi disliked their cramped and dividing meeting space in the One-Eleventh Street Clinic.

He didn't like how it was always under the yellowing, flickering lights that he now saw his former student.

He was certain Sakura hadn't eaten anything since the day before. She was barely present in the room, he thought. She had showered, had found clothing that looked almost new, let alone clean, but there were bruises on her body and a lag in her movements as if she hadn't bothered with her healing after a sparring session. Her eyes were distant.

Kakashi would have lifted an arm to touch her just to make sure Sakura were really there, but it was an abstract and ridiculous impulse so he ignored it.

With his regular lack of empathetic intonation, Kakashi said bluntly, "you're a kunoichi, Sakura, you need to take better care of yourself."

He had meant to say it more kindly, had once been so capable, but alas...

Kakashi shifted to the amendments Tsunade and Shikaku had made in the mission parameters. "From now on you'll be reporting on the full scope of your interactions with 'Ken.'"

Conversations, meeting places, anything to do with the man in question. She seemed unsurprised by the new objective.

"Who is this man?" Sakura asked Kakashi, seemingly far away from their place together in the tiny room. Quiet and buffered by some invisible layer between them. Her tone was strange enough that he didn't even reprimand her for the out-of-line question. "Who is he, really?"

_What more is there to him? What is the end goal of her mission?_

Those were her intended questions, Kakashi thought.

"He's a nobody," he said in a standard sort of response.

Kakashi was in one of the two seats at the lone table in the room, balancing on the hind legs again while Sakura stood at attention in front of him. He rocked back and forth, squeaking something loose in the chair as he did so, and waited for something in Sakura to twitch at the grating noise. No response, to his dismay, and he went back to studiously not looking at the wisp of a kunoichi.

"Anyway, you're not cleared to know anything more than what's already been shared in your objectives," he said. "And our friend Ken has been kind enough to share more than is acceptable with you already."

That was as close as they came to addressing the rest of their former team.

Kakashi sensed more than saw the slight bowing in Sakura's posture.

"My mission is more extensive than you're telling me, sensei..."

He glanced back to Sakura, snapping his head up a little clumsily to do so. He thought he had heard a change in her voice just then. She had sounded like her old self for a moment – albeit the timid, uncertain Sakura he might have once known.

Her face was showing a hint of emotion: a line at her brow and a wavering shine in her eyes as she considered the clasp of his jounin vest.

She asked in that same, weary tone, "if he's a nobody, then who's the somebody?"

Before he could answer her, Sakura regained her detached demeanor. Her eyes went elsewhere in the room, away from him once more.

"Excuse me, I shouldn't have spoken casually."

She used to make fun of him to his face and loudly call him out for being late to their training sessions, Kakashi remembered. Those times seemed so long ago.

Sakura was rigid in her stance and blank in her expression.

He breathed out a heavy, muted sound, and dragged a hand from his hitai-ate to the bridge of his nose. "You're free to go."

"Yes, sir."

"And – I'm saying this as your superior officer – eat a decent meal." He could have shaken her for emphasis. It was a warning and an answer to her question, but he wondered if Sakura understood as much as she parroted another, 'yes, sir.'

Kakashi felt a jerk in his hand as she disappeared through the sliding panel, an itch for some desired movement he hadn't taken.

He would wish he had.

-o-

Sakura pivoted on her right foot, brought up her left leg to connect a kick at Sai's neck.

He must have had very good intuition because he ducked from the hit instead of blocking it – a good thing because the tree that had been at his back, the one Sakura grazed with the end of her boot, cracked with a shattering, thunderous noise up its entire trunk and then exploded into hundreds of thousands of splinters.

Sai had the reaction to move away instantaneously. Sakura did not. She fell from her spin to land hard on her hands and knees, didn't have the thought to protect herself from the wooden projectiles that punctured her like an abused academy class dummy. Each splinter was a glass shard pushing into her skin.

A moment after the dust settled, Sakura had enough wits to push herself from her cowering and ease onto her calves. She coughed and dribbled out a harassed swear.

"You look like one of those needle-backed creatures," Sai observed, crunching his way back to her from where he'd taken cover. He toed aside some debris to lean down to her level. "Was that on purpose? If that kick had landed, I would be a smudge right now."

Sai had a habit of not holding back in spars. He had that luxury in their fights. Sakura did not. Every moment she was dedicated to making perfect calculations, maintaining perfect concentration and control throughout every inch of her body. She always had to hold back.

Usually a fine enough thing but just then Sakura was pretty sure she had blacked out mid-step of that kick.

"No, I did not intend to do that," she said, words parched from her mouth.

She tried to form seals to heal herself, but her hands were uncooperative. Finally she was hitting her very overdue threshold for exhaustion and it kept any nimbleness from her fingers. They were reddened, swollen, disobedient things.

Noticing her temporary handicap, Sai reached out to pluck pieces of tree from her hair but he stopped when an ANBU hit the ground next to him.

"Hey, apprentice, lookin' a little beat up right now." Ken shooed his student aside and smartly made the signs for a basic healing technique as he crouched down next to Sakura. "I'll treat the bigger splinters with my first aid kit. Sai, hand over a Nocturne. She could use one."

Murmuring, Sakura said, "do you always stalk around after your student or was this just my luck you happened to be around?"

"Nah, I'm not here for him. Watch your eye, there's a bad one here."

For all the deftness she currently lacked, the ANBU seemed to have over tenfold. His chakra was pleasantly warm at her hairline, and Ken had particular skill in masking the pain that came with regeneration. His fingers were a careful, reassuring pressure at her temple and his work was soothingly methodical. Next to hers, his control was unflinching.

The realization made Sakura hiccup a pathetic sound in her throat. Her eyes were closed and yet she felt a stinging heat that burned something past her eyelashes. She was every bit a fourteen year old girl as she whimpered out a low, stuttering admission, "I could ha-have killed him..."

She assumed her vulnerable mumbling went ignored.

"Nocturne, please, Sai. Thank you," Ken said. He promptly directed his student to 'get lost' and Sakura thought she was going to be reprimanded for her actions or boxed out in silence. But the ANBU was gentle in their solitude. "Come on, apprentice, accidents happen. You've been in a difficult position lately."

Her heart doubled on a beat and Sakura gave the man a guilty look.

"Can't be easy being under the pressure of someone like the Fifth, eh? You're alright. My student's fine. This is no trouble at all."

His were nice words to hear. She had started to forget what support sounded like. Tsunade was her Hokage and her style had been hands off as of late, and it had been awhile since Sakura's own former teacher had spoken anything likewise. She had the thought those attitudes from her supposed mentors had been engineered in some way.

Had they hoped for her to become this vulnerable thing, ready for the taking?

"Take this. It'll help with your fatigue." Ken held out a pill for her to examine.

"A soldier pill?" Sakura said, and her voice was embarrassingly shaky. But she knew the little capsule on sight as one of Sai's.

Ken shrugged. "It's an ANBU take on one, sure. Bit more advanced than what the other divisions get. Less kickback, promise, and no more near 'friendly fire casualties' with this."

Most seasoned members of the ranks had experience with soldiers pills. Again - Sakura did not. She had never wanted to use any, had never even considered using medical ninjutsu for such an application.

Sakura nodded her head and let the man place the pill at her lips. He had shared so much with her already, she almost couldn't say no to the offer. And she was tired, so damned tired and cold. Even his gloved hand at her mouth was a comfort. She was curious. She was weak and obliging. She wanted to understand -

Her teeth split the tablet and a clothed thumb brushed over her bottom lip, letting nothing escape.

"There we go. No worries, apprentice. You'll get right back to fighting form."

_She was a kunoichi and she needed to take care of herself..._

Sakura wondered what Kakashi would say of her just then.

-o-

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_Thank you for reading!_

_Please comment and share your thoughts_

_support is super appreciated_


	7. The Kindling

_bare and wide smile on every skull_

-o-

Sakura felt energetic, vigorous, clear-headed, and  _new_.

Organized, punctual, presentable -she was once again a shining example of work ethic. Her thoughts were quick, her actions were efficient. She didn't feel the lag of unidentifiable weight pulling at her shoulders. It was as if she had been scrubbed of the lingering months of malaise and uncertainty and she was re-emerging as a kuniochi.

She was on her seventieth straight hour of having Nocturne in her system and no one around her knew as much.

Sakura smiled at her assistants in the operating room as she finished her first unassisted procedure. The regenerative jutsu was a complete success and a record breaker for time to completion. Some of it was her natural ability with medical ninjutsu, but, really, she knew it was the control offered by the stimulant that made her so exceptional.

Nocturne, Nox as Sai referred to it, was a key to a lock she hadn't known had been holding her back. Sakura was open, functional, and pure in a way she didn't remember; as if her chakra coils had been reinvigorated, re-sprung, in a new manner.

The effects of Nox had made her want adventure again. Sakura thought about the Land of Waves and how it could have gone differently if only she had been more active, more capable. She wondered if she might have been a different kunoichi for Kakashi to train, if she might have been a better combatant in the exams, or against Gaara in the Invasion. She could have been different – she might have been worthwhile.

Even in her covert mission with Kakashi she was seeing the threads she had missed days before in her anxious questioning. She saw the importance of Naruto and Sasuke's positions beyond how it related to her (and her obliviousness). The village was a tangle of threads; the woven mess of bloodlines, leadership, and ideological purpose, and she was pulling at its heartstring.

There was certainly more to her mission than Kakashi was telling her.

After the procedure and on her own again, one meagre pawn in the busy scene around her, Sakura was considering her particular role in the village.

"You doing alright, apprentice?"

Sakura lowered the pile of medical scrolls in her arms to see an ANBU in the hallway in front of her. Ken was without a genjutsu or henge to disguise himself, standing in his uniform and mask and speaking to her openly while inside the service hospital.

Both audacious and ignorant of him, Sakura thought.

She smiled up to Ken and didn't lie. "I'm wonderful, thank you."

He saw something in her expression that made him press further, "wonderful and …?"

"Curious," Sakura said. "I've looked into Nocturne. I can't find anything on it based on its name nor its components that I can identify."

From under his porcelain mask, she heard Ken return her smile. "I am never disappointed with you, apprentice."

Despite herself and all her new deductions, the flattery kindled a pink warmth to her cheeks.

"If you want to learn more about it, there's someone I can have you meet," Ken offered. He was skilled enough to make it sound like the introduction was a candid thought.

Sai had said his teacher was 'not so great with people,' but Ken had no trouble when it came to talking to her.

Sakura tilted her head, and was genuinely interested. "Who is it?"

"We all call her Himeko. She's a bit... Well, you'll like her."

"When will I meet her?"

"I'll find you." Another smile on his voice. "See you around, apprentice."

When Ken left, he touched her face and there was no excuse of speaking low to her for his closeness, no secretive note to give her. Just a touch for the sake of a touch.

Sakura felt warm down through her middle.

A touch for the sake of a mission, she thought.

For something more.

-o-

They had crossed paths in the second floor hallway of the hospital's east wing – reserved for serious injuries and cases and busy at all times. The two were a small number in a crowded space, very close to each other and not obvious to most beyond the thought of a couple chatting. A courteous, intimate moment lost in the sea of medic-nin, patients, staff, and visitors moving about.

Kakashi only saw the last second as Sakura and Ken parted. He saw the lowering of a hand and the quick burying of a hot face behind a stack of scrolls.

A burning, sick feeling stirred in his stomach as he watched Sakura dart away.

"You came to watch the procedure too, eh?"

Kakashi didn't turn to acknowledge Nara Shikaku. The man had an unlit cigarette dancing on his fingertips and his tone was bleak. He was wary, but not nearly enough at the moment.

"And you came to keep me from congratulating my old student on an impressive accomplishment."

"I thought you might be tempted to approach her. Hell, I wanted to say something."

Kakashi  _had_ been tempted, but he was also a shinobi with two decades of experience. He had outranked Shikaku when he was a tween. Blandly, "I wouldn't dare. Simply offering my silent support."

"Of course. And now you're heading out, I imagine."

"Something to as much effect."

Shikaku raised an eyebrow. The answer was not, 'I'm going to chase down my former student and current subordinate to break mission protocol,' and so he was confused but content. "Right. Have...fun with that."

"Doubtless I will," Kakashi murmured and excused himself.

He went to the hospital basement, and more specifically to the security room where he knew he could find surveillance footage.

The two genin inside stumbled to their feet when he entered, one even stammered out something about clearance before hushing themselves at Kakashi's pointed, unimpressed glance.

An awkward beat before, "how do I get the feeds from the east wing?"

With the genin standing behind him, fidgeting very loudly, Kakashi found the moment he was looking for from a somewhat decent angle. He glared at the small screen with its unfocused and distorted image, watched the minutes-old footage of Ken and Sakura in the hallway. Their their conversation was indiscernible.

But he could read their body language.

He rewound and replayed the man reaching for her face and running his hands along her jawline.

-o-

The village was over a hundred years old, and over that time, some of its buildings had been added to and expanded and had grown out from their original structures like new sprouts from a vine. There were spaces under the Hokage Tower that even the Fifth, legacy and leader that she was, didn't know about.

Sakura was even further removed from knowing the extent of Konoha's various networks, but she was starting to understand more.

The woman called Himeko occupied one of those unquantified, mysterious village spaces.

Ken had taken Sakura into a department building off to the side of the Hokage Tower, led her through hallways and passages, down staircases and elevators. Twisting directions into themselves until Sakura's spatial awareness was in knots and she had to rely on her chakra sensitivity to orientate herself versus where she knew her shishou's signature to be in her office many stories above them.

"These are medical research laboratories," Sakura said, peering into rooms as Ken walked her down a long corridor that had the occasional viewing window in the walls. The equipment inside was a mixture of new and old, typical and bizarre. "Who works down here? I've never heard of this section..."

"Not too many people have. The Third was the one to sanction the labs, but for awhile they didn't see much use." Ken's response was evasive, which meant to Sakura he thought she might not find the whole truth exactly palatable. "Anyway, ANBU R&D has set up down here for the time being."

Obviously not the same ANBU R&D Sakura knew about from Shizune, where they dealt with poisons, venoms, and toxins.

They had arrived at a door marked 'Zero Four' and Sakura held back a pace before Ken could open it.

"Are you scouting me?" She asked, knowing it was sudden. Sakura had been wondering for awhile if it were the case and she was finally confident that the time had arrived to bring it to the forefront of whatever relationship she had with the man in front of her. If Ken really thought very much of her then she figured the question wouldn't surprise him.

It didn't.

Ken pushed back his mask. He had tanned skin, sun born freckles, brown eyes and dark hair. His lips pulled into a lazy sort of smile that complemented the downturned shape of his eyes. He said, "might be."

Everything about him was soft and welcoming and looking a little like he'd just finished rough housing. An inoffensive sort of catalogue fashioned tousled. A cover and an act he wore too well.

Sakura hedged a moment, reworded her question. "Am I being scouted?"

"Yes."

"So this isn't just your own action right now?" Sakura pressed.

"Are all of our actions always our own?" The smile widened and his eyes caught a pretty light. He reached out to run a finger down the hair she hadn't tucked behind an ear. He said, "let's not keep her waiting. She's expecting us."

For the moment, Sakura had to be satisfied with the answer he had given her.

-o-

In the tiny room again with a chasm between them and Kakashi was unable to stay seated. He was leaning on the table's edge, arms crossed, and listening to his subordinate go over a week's worth of interactions and observations, looking for guidance from her handler as was now allowed in their mission.

Nothing Sakura said interested him because he had a suspicion she was leaving out critical information.

She looked pretty. Not that she hadn't always been so – some people just have that  _look_  – but Sakura was more polished than she had been in over a year. She was styling her hair, her clothing fit properly and nicely, she had a charmed glow to her skin, and there was a faint dusting of make-up around her eyes. Definitely more in line with the conventional image of pretty as opposed to the stressed, hectic appearance she had been favoring in months passed.

Kakashi narrowed his eyes and his mouth twisted at one corner.

He had seen this type of development before in other people and he did not like seeing it now in Sakura.

He was sure Ken was courting her and he was sure Sakura was responding to the man's flirtations and advances. And not in the way the mission parameters would necessarily call for – but that didn't make it unexpected. It just made the whole thing complicated and Kakashi didn't like it.

He might have hated it if his emotions were capable of such a strong reaction. He was pretty sure they weren't anymore.

"Ken has access to a medical research and development division that I didn't even know about until he brought me there," Sakura was saying. "It was after my unassisted procedure the other day, so it _is_ possible he might have been waiting to approach me about it. Vetting me, maybe. I wrote as much as I could remember about its location in my report, but it was very well concealed. The woman I met inside – very strange woman –" and here Sakura actually shuddered very minutely, "she goes by a codename and I don't expect she leaves the lab very often... She's doing work on alternative soldier pills but Ken didn't allow me to stay very long..."

'Fuck Ken,' was Kakashi's immediate thought. The man shouldn't have anything to do with what Sakura was and was not 'allowed' to pursue.

Aloud, he said, "this is part of his network, then. Were you able to memorize the layout of the lab, its equipment, supplies? Do you think you might go back?"

"I included a list and diagram, but I don't know if Ken will bring me back."

Ken. _Ken_. He tasted something foul in his mouth with the name.

"I know what he's doing," Sakura said after a silent moment, making Kakashi bring his gaze back to her instead of glaring at a spot on the ground.

Kakashi said nothing.

"He's trying to lure me into a sub-division, isn't he?"

For a moment he thought Sakura might have said something else.

"Is he illicitly recruiting operatives?" She asked, overstepping her bounds and quickly retracting the question. "Excuse me, I didn't mean to speculate. I won't be subjective."

Kakashi wondered if that were really possible in such a position like hers. She was going to have to bend and improvise and do more and more terrible things. It was going to be painful and he didn't think she would keep herself above it all. For all the emotions he lacked, she had them tenfold.

And she was going to suffer for it.

.

.

.

-o-

 


	8. The Catch .i

_small ember red heard the whisper plea, breathe_

-o-

Ken was working up to something in their conversation that morning; Sakura could see it in his body language, heard it in his tone, and knew it from his typical style of a leading question.

"Did you know Orochimaru was a disciple of the Third?" He had asked as if it were a spontaneous thought as they traded a water bottle. Sai was there, too, but he was silent in the presence of his teacher. Ken was talking to Sakura.

They were in a training ground Sakura had never seen before. Training Ground Seventy-Two went back into the mountain beyond the Hokage monument and consisted of large caverns and an extensive network of tunnels that might have been natural, might have been formed from jutsu, or maybe a combination of both. Impossibly large mineral deposits chewed up the interior space, creating a dimensional and dangerous landscape, and there was a slickness to every surface that had claimed her skin and clothing, too. They were sat in a natural sort of amphitheater after training.

She had nodded 'yes' at Ken's question, and so he told her something new.

"He was once a member of the renegade organization hunting your teammate. He was chased out of our village but when we were... unable to execute him, Orochimaru became a member of Akatsuki."

Sakura found that difficult to understand.

"A man who wanted to become Hokage at any cost bends to the will of another mercenary?" She asked. The move didn't sound like something the egotist she had briefly encountered would make. But then, considering for some how 'the ends justify the means,' perhaps he had made a temporary concession. She postulated, aloud but to herself, "Akastuki wants to remove our jinchuuriki. If they had that same intention back then, he must have seen that as a way to weaken our regime."

"Others have come to that same conclusion," Ken said.

He didn't redirect the conversation, she supposed she were following the correct lead.

"Of course, then he left Akatsuki eight, nine years ago and returned to working towards his goals on his own. Or rather, at his own discretion."

Sakura eyed Sai from her peripheral, wondering if he would give some indication as to where this was going. The boy was completely aloof and wouldn't respond to her secretive glances. Feeling a little lonesome from that, Sakura busied herself with freeing bits of rock from the treads of her boots and combing down the gooseflesh on her bare legs. It wasn't at all warm inside the cavern but the air was dense and lacked the freshness of the approaching winter months. The cloying moisture in the air chilled her all the same.

"If Orochimaru left them," she said finally, "then maybe it was because their goals conflicted too much. They might want the jinchuuriki, but they might also want to destroy Konoha altogether."

"If that were the case..."

Sakura finished Ken's thought, "why would they allow him to leave the organization? Were they unable to stop him?"

"That seems the likely reason."

So they were talking about Akatsuki and its history, its manner of functioning, she thought. Orochimaru was the 'in.'

"It seems odd to me that they would coexist," Sakura said, thoughtful. "The intelligence that could be leaked seems too detrimental a risk. Akatsuki must not be powerful enough to stop Orochimaru, but he similarly isn't strong enough to stop them. Stalemate, perhaps."

Sakura was quiet a moment, then wondered, "did he leave because they no longer had the specific power or resources he needed?"

Ken was happy with her question. He smiled and she could see the curve of his cheek in his eyes when he looked at her. He pushed her with another question. "What are your thoughts about Akatsuki and their structure?"

Most of Sakura's thoughts concerning Akatsuki centered around the fact they wanted Naruto for the demon inside him. She didn't known as to what they would do with that demon and the power offered therein once they had him. And more specifically, in terms of structure, Sakura was only certain that the most visible operatives worked in teams of two. Beyond that – things like how many members there were in total, the hierarchy of leadership and the chain of command, base of operations, she didn't know about those things.

"Going by the assumption Orochimaru doesn't interfere with Akatsuki," she said, tentative, "then maybe they're too powerful in ways beyond ninjutsu."

"And what type of power would that be?" More pleased leading from Ken.

"Man power," she said quickly.

"More than that. What gets the numbers?"

Ken was reminding her of the very potent fact that ninjutsu and physical power only went so far when compared to the most important form of persuasion –

"Money," and that answer earned her a nod of approval. She went on, "but then the question is where does the money come from? Especially if they're as formidable as it would appear and they're unaffiliated with a country."

There were plenty of ways in which to make money, like real estate, drugs, weapons, or trafficking any illegal or high demand commodity. However, if a ninja wanted to make fast money and in large amounts quickly, something that were more randomized than regular customers and supplies, that offered more anonymity, Sakura could think of one particular job.

"They could be taking bounties. Ones too politically risky for villages to accept or pursue."

"Never one to disappoint, apprentice." Ken had gotten what he wanted out of her. Nodding his head to Sai, he said, "with that in mind, I want you to consider taking a mission with us."

"How do you mean?"

"ANBU intell has singled out a potential hub for bounty missions. Operates out of the shady zone on the borders of Grass and Wind. Has the street name Carbon Man. We think he's funneling jobs to Akatsuki."

Sakura stood straighter in her seat, excited, but a little lost as well. Not seeing where she could contribute, she asked, "I don't understand what could I do for you?"

Ken laughed like he couldn't believe her doubts. "You're a medic, aren't you? I want one in my cell when we go investigate. You up for it?"

"Of course," she said without hesitating. "You're trying to take down Akatsuki, of course I'll help."

"Perfect," Ken almost hummed. "We've got a few kinks to work out before it's official, but I think you'll be pleased to join the effort."

Sakura smiled, sincerely happy with the thought of working in a team again. And she didn't think it would conflict with her current mission, but rather she thought it was a step furthering her objective. Kakashi would be happy, too, she thought.

Remembering something, Sakura dropped her smile in favor of a crease in her brow. "Why did you ask me if I knew Orochimaru was a disciple of the Third?"

Ken shrugged a shoulder. "Just something curious to remember is all. Something I think about from time to time."

And that was all he said on the topic.

As hopeful as she was about the prospect of leaving Konoha on a mission and reacquainting herself with the world outside of the village gates, Ken had stirred within her a troubling sense of unease.

-o-

Kakashi had pulled a muscle around his elbow on his last mission and no matter what position his arm took, the stupid thing ached constantly and often twitched with sharp little pains.

He tucked his arms across his chest, which seemed to bother him the least, and waited for Sakura to finish her initial briefing. They were in the One-Eleventh Street clinic, as they always were when they spoke, and Kakashi was leaning in his typical spot. He noticed Sakura hitch in her recitation just once, as her eyes had been looking over his bad arm with a suspicious narrowing, but she hadn't said anything about the injury.

"Ken has been teaching me genjutsu. Lower-ranking jutsu meant for quick diversion. He's brought me to training ground Seventy-Two, which I'm pretty sure is typically off-limits to someone like myself. Usually."

Kakashi made a noise of agreement. It was reserved for ANBU.

Sakura took a little breath before speaking. "He's also put in a request for me to join his cell."

As he started to say something, she added hastily, "for one mission. Temporarily."

"You're supposed to go on a mission with him. As what, ANBU?" Kakashi was surprised at the development, although his tone was more condescending than he would have preferred, because Sakura pinched her face.

"I don't know," she shot back, annoyed. "Probably not. Just as a floating medic, I'm sure."

Kakashi shook his head. That couldn't be the case. Either everyone in the cell was ANBU or "no one" was. His heart beat faster in his chest as he realized Danzo was closing in on Sakura.

"Ken already knows the parameters of the mission he's asking you to join?" Kakashi asked.

"We're looking into transactions concerning mercenaries and bounties on the Grass-Wind border. Trying to establish a money trail."

Frowning, "a money trail to whom?"

"Akatsuki."

Definitely an ANBU endeavor, considering location and involved parties. Kakashi asked her more and nothing she said relieved him of that awful conclusion.

The old man was really going to do it – actually attempt to poach a student of the Fifth.

Kakashi's student.

Apparently Danzo didn't have much esteem for the messages Kakashi had instilled in his team. Ah, but then he had been more focused on Sasuke than Sakura at that time and considering what had come of that...

So Danzo was picking up Sakura and Nara Shikaku would think everything was going according to plan.

Kakashi felt ill down his middle. A normal feeling for him recently. It wouldn't change any time soon.

"Can I ask something?" Sakura interrupted his thoughts. He looked at her but she didn't wait for his permission. She was holding back some eagerness in her expression, but it wasn't anything he thought positive. "Why didn't the Third eliminate Orochimaru when he first betrayed the village?"

The subject was unprecedented to Kakashi and he stumbled at first to answer her. Smartly, "he did."

Sakura tilted her head.

"He  _tried_  to," Kakashi clarified. "But even that many years ago, Orochimaru was a powerful shinobi. There wasn't anyone as strong as him in the village."

Sakura had been thinking about this issue, though, and might have expected a response like that."What about the Fourth? He's supposedly the most talented Konoha nin ever. Couldn't he have stopped Orochimaru?"

Kakashi hedged at saying his sensei couldn't have been able - certainly Minato had been - but it was more complicated than that.

"And if it really couldn't have been one person, wasn't there a team that could have terminated him? Taken him in somehow?"

"We were also in a war, Sakura."

She was on a thread, though. "Not the whole time. What about after the Fourth's initiation as Hokage? Couldn't the Third have gone after his student himself?"

"I suppose some people still hope there's such a thing as retirement in our lifestyle," was Kakashi's flippant grumble, a little annoyed himself.

"Doesn't that appear a little naive to you?" Sakura finally demanded. "Why did the Third let such a formidable – _verifiable_ – threat go unchecked?"

It hadn't gone 'unchecked,' Kakashi wanted to say. Jiraiya had been tracking Orochimaru for the better part of two decades. Of course, that was classified and not his place to share with Sakura.

Instead, Kakashi returned her harsh tone. "Why are you so curious about this now? When have you ever doubted the leadership of the Third? Are you sure this isn't a line of thought coming directly from your target?"

Sakura was taken aback by the obvious, unspoken accusation.

"Am I right?" He goaded.

"This is so rich coming from you," Sakura mumbled, closing her eyes and putting a hand at her temple. A noise that could have been a short, audible sneer. "You're the one who always espoused, 'look underneath the underneath' and now I'm a turncoat because I want answers to fair questions?"

Kakashi had a retort prepared, but he shut his mouth. She had a point.

"I needed to know the perspective you were coming from," he said in lieu. Seemed trite, though, once out of his mouth.

Finished with the massage at her temple, Sakura let out a sigh. Defeated or detached, he didn't know, but she said, "I shouldn't have asked. Are we finished here?"

They were and he told her as much. Told her their next meeting time and she nodded her chin absently. She paused at the door and Kakashi knew she probably wanted the last word.

"Those questions I had are coming from him," Sakura confirmed, her back to him, and Kakashi had the correct instinct not to say he knew as much. She continued, a glance over her shoulder, "but I didn't go to Ken for answers. I came to  _you_."

Something in his chest shrank in a dry, crumbling sensation and Kakashi felt suddenly very inept.

"And get a sling fitted, would you? You look miserable."

-o-

"What do you think?" Ken was cool in his excitement, but Sakura thought she detected something like that in his voice. "I had a little say in the design. Thought you might like it."

Sakura looked down at the white mask he held out. Her hands shook as she accepted it. Three weeks ago the idea that she would have ever held such an item, let alone wear it, was nearly an impossibility.

Of course, it was only for one mission. For one month. And then she would go back to being non-combat oriented, base-bound Haruno Sakura.

The mask's caricature wasn't obvious. Not like a wolf, not like a fox. Not quite a dog, she didn't think. But it was something narrow and shy and canid.

"Coyote," Ken told her. "Scrappy little fellas. Kind of like you."

Sakura laughed, short and harsh, but appreciated the sentiment. She put the mask to her face and secured it around her short ponytail. Cool and then warm against her skin. Looking out from behind the porcelain was a strange, wonderful and terrible experience.

Four of them at the village gate, off to its side so that their cell could depart unperturbed out a hidden door Sakura had never seen. She had gotten her outfit and pack ready back in her house, but the mask was the last thing to complete her short-term initiation.

"You ready?" Ken asked as they were leaving and it was ambiguous to her ears.

Sakura thought she was.

She found out later she was mostly wrong.

.

.

.

-o-

 


	9. The Catch .ii

_and time how the forest crushed the rocks_

-o-

Part of being a kunoichi was allowing things to happen that were not at all inherently good.

Deep in the disputed territory between Grass and Wind countries, Sakura remembered that as she sat next to Ken in the crook of a rock formation, watching a group of mercenaries further down the mountainside as they besieged a group of travelers. The hostage party consisted of a mature couple and five staff members, and a very pampered pet rabbit the mercenaries found amusing, and one by one they were lined up and pushed to the ground.

The mercenaries singled out the older man of the couple to carry the punishment for the transgressions of the group. Someone had failed to make a very important payment, one of the mercenaries informed, and it was time the man 'appreciated what was owed.'

The older man, seeing his impending mortality, went from livid, to imploring, to terrified. The mercenaries were unaffected by any of his words. Then, as he and Sakura watched, the man was left untouched as everyone around him, even the rabbit, was slaughtered.

Ken suspected the mercenaries, lower level fighters who had probably defected as genin from the war time, were working for the Carbon Man, and so Sakura sat with her Commanding Officer and did nothing to stop the violence.

It was not the right play to intervene, Ken said to her. It would only hinder their mission.

They left the man alone in his ruin and went after the mercenaries.

-o-

It was like a rancid thing wrapped up in a mat and stuck in his middle; muted and dull, buried but rotten there all the same.

Kakashi hadn't felt anything similar for a very long time, and especially not towards Gai, but he recognized the sensation as resentment. In the middle of a crowded bar, stranded in a haze of happy white noise, surrounded by people he knew and sometimes even liked, and Kakashi was miserable with souring resentment because Gai's team was sincerely so damn glad to be together.

Across the room from him and their contagious laughter was a constant resident in his ears. Jokes, dares, stories. One of Gai's students, Lee, he thought, had turned sixteen that day. Around them there was an atmosphere of comfort that radiated outwards and threatened to warm even Kakashi in his far away corner.

He turned his eye from them and thought he would rather not look at his friend with such obvious emotions.

Kakashi loathed himself for being resentful. Usually he would admit, to himself and never aloud, that Gai was possibly the most capable person of maintaining a healthy and functional team and that, really, the man should have all the happiness in the world for that achievement.

And resenting Gai quickly led to Kakashi spiraling deeper into loathing  _himself_  for being responsible for his own team's fracturing and disintegration. For being foolish and immature and ignorant.

How pathetic, too, as he recalled arguing pretty strongly against ever being assigned Team Seven. And now he couldn't stop thinking of how those three should have been in the bar with him just then, all together and content – rather,  _eager_  – to stay that way.

Two teams in his life that Kakashi had split up quite spectacularly.

He stared down into the glass of amber liquor he spun between his hands on the bar top, the catalyst for his pity fest perhaps, and morbidly thought how long it would take for his new teammates to fade out just as the old ones had. It used to be he had a suspicion Naruto would go first, and then Sasuke, but recently he was certain Sakura was edging her way up the list to that honored position of First to Die.

His fingers ghosted over his glass, missed the friction that would have stopped its momentum, and watched the thing slide towards the edge of the bar top. A split second thought told him,  _just let it fall_ , and Kakashi realized he was probably drunk.

The glass careened off its little ledge and he was  _definitely_  drunk because he didn't move to stop it. He didn't move either when the drink was caught in a small, deft grab by another patron who had been walking by.

Mitarashi Anko gave Kakashi a smug sort of smile as she looked him over, noticing who it was that had neglected catching his own drink from a terrible fate. She was apparently gleeful to see it was him.

"Uh-oh," she cooed, normal sharp brand of humor in place, "the tired old man is unhappy tonight, is he?"

Kakashi accepted the glass she handed back to him and waved at the bar tender for another drink. For her, of course. And one more for himself, maybe.

"Looks like you're slowly trying to drown yourself," referring to his collection of empty glasses. At his persisting silence, which must have been less composed than usual, Anko dropped her smirk. She pushed into the seat next to him and, after a moment, leaned in close to speak more discretely. She asked, serious, "you lose someone today?"

Kakashi felt an acidic and short laugh leave him on a breath. He must have been a dramatic fixture for Anko to ask that (even though it was a fair question given their profession). Shaking his head, he downed the last of his double. In a damning manner, he said, "today? No."

But in a way he was losing someone.

It hadn't been easy to pull off just the right amount of hesitance and eventual permission from Tsunade for Sakura to joining the ANBU cell, but eventually she had been assigned to the mission in a way that maintained their covert intentions. They had already taken off and Kakashi hadn't seen her since the last meeting they had in the One-Eleventh Street Clinic. Not exactly a pleasant send off for her on his part, maybe.

Sakura should have been at the celebration, probably would have made it if not for the isolating nature of her current assignment. If it hadn't been for that...

"Don't leave Kurenai waiting," Kakashi said next, softly as he could since he was apparently incapable of a more polite way of brushing someone off. But the woman at his side was a long time stranger to sensitivity and took his words gracefully.

Anko made a face that was a brief flattening of sympathy on her lips and patted his shoulder as she stood again. "If you want to, we have a seat for you."

Because it was her, Anko tacked on a little bit louder, "ya needy, grumpy bastard," just so no one else would bother him.

He waved his fingers in thanks as she left him. Watching her back weave away he thought he should call it in for the evening; a drunken Kakashi was even less of a joy at a party than regular Kakashi.

Back in his empty apartment he had dark and meandering thoughts for company.

-o-

Determining anything about Akatsuki involved a lot of surveillance time, and most of those hours were more an extensive exercise in patience than anything exciting.

They had already been on the mission for longer than anticipated, having spent the first few weeks determining potential bounties targets and following the one with the most recently, most intensely fortified security. A tired and true strategy, as Ken had told Sakura, because when a person has a bounty on their head, it wasn't likely they didn't know. After some time, a group of mercenaries had come for the lead subject, and Sakura and her team had watched the assassination without interfering so that they could then track the group back to their main target, the Carbon Man.

At the moment, Sakura was perched on the upper branches of a large tree with Sai, watching a building in a small forested township a few hundred meters away. It was a strange sort of location, as it was rural, sparsely populated, and dominated by one particular industry. The industry was iron and steel and the entire town had grown from the demand of the mill. The only road in and out of town went by the mill complex before anything else.

Their surveillance target was a little group of offices well off to the side of the larger structures of the furnaces, engines, separators, and so on. Inside the office was the owner of the mine and also the person suspected to be the Carbon Man. Their subject of investigation operated almost as a pseudo kage, taking in assassination requests like missions and paying out when a body was brought in for identification and, more often than not, disposal in the blast furnace.

Sakura had sent out a clone disguised in henge a few hours ago, to better listen in on conversations or see something more worthwhile, and it was almost time for the clone to disperse. She and Sai would take turns sending out clones, both to conserve their own chakra and to get back new information.

What they were looking for was an opportune moment to get inside the operation and to confirm their suspicions. To decrease risk of detection or intervention from hostile parties, it was ideal for them to make one excursion into the Carbon Man's territory, get what they needed, and to then retreat as quickly as possible. Most importantly, while infiltrating the operation, Ken wanted Sakura to get a look at the bodies being kept in storage; the bounties so important that the client would want to check on the job in person. These were the ones Ken suspected would have been jobs taken by Akatsuki. And then – and here she saw her true value as a medic-nin on the team – Sakura would perform an autopsy on the body to determine the methodology of execution. Depending on the body's condition, she would be able to determine what type of ninjutsu caused wounds, or what weapon was used to damage bone and tissue. She would be able to read the type of conflict that ended in the person's death, and what kind of skills the Akatsuki had to offer.

They would leave after that. Their mission was to bring back information on one of the village's most dangerous and unquantified enemies, to help discern what kind of nin they were facing.

But until the autopsy, for the moment, it was a waiting game.

Sai's clone, in the form of a songbird, took off to relieve Sakura's.

She tensed when she received the clone's memories.

"We might have something," Sakura said, but not aloud. As part of covert operations for their mission, while on watch they communicated through hand signals. Sakura had memorized the language over several three hour sessions, using key words most pertinent to their investigation. In a rough translation, she told Sai, "a shipment request has just been recorded that is incongruous with the other orders we've seen."

Sakura's clone had been a songbird in the eaves, flitting around with wild birds, and as inconspicuously as possible, memorizing pages of the owner's hard copy, hand written, coded ledger.

Aside from surveillance, there had also been plenty of code-breaking work and deciphering huge amounts of both legitimate business and illegal murder business.

"Similar to the incongruities we've seen so far?" Sai asked.

Sakura shook her head. She told him, "different logistics from the established pattern. Might be a body."

With a body would they could track the location of the Carbon Man's holding freezers.

He nodded. "Let's get this to 'taichou' now."

Sakura relayed the information, watched Sai's ink creature slither off to find Ken, and went back to silence.

She had watched five executions in front of her and had she really wanted, Sakura could have saved each life. It might have gone against orders, but otherwise she had been far from powerless in the situation. And yet she hadn't stopped anything and ever since she had felt different.

Just –  _different_.

Repositioning herself more comfortably again, Sakura then wondered, abstractly and not at all like herself, what means the Akatsuki used in their executions.

-o-

The fourth member of the ANBU cell was called 'Tatsu' and she was their apprehension specialist; she knew best how to track and capture a target.

Sakura helped her put up a perimeter specifically set to respond to higher levels of chakra. It spread out like a web around the township, miles out, and was interspersed with seals for reinforcement of chakra control and sensitivity. Ken and Sai set up more seals to act as bases for transportation techniques in the case of potential breeches. The method involved a lot of preparation and energy, and was most effective in small range, trap scenarios.

Small range, to the senior ANBU, meant up to five kilometers of perimeter.

"I developed this in the war," Tatsu assured Sakura as they worked. She added, with what could have been a wink, "and it's only gotten better since."

"How long can you keep it activated?"

"If I'm rested, up to an hour. And I'll still have a good amount of fight in me."

An hour was time enough. Outside the perimeter, Sai had several ink birds watching the forest from the air. Before the mercenary reached the inner circle of territory, they would be sighted and reported. The perimeter would go up within minutes, and then the mercenary's location would be theirs.

"We follow him to the drop off, follow the body, find the morgue, do the autopsy," was the plan, and Sakura thought it was a tidy and efficient course of action.

The problem came when their subject, a lone man carrying one body over his shoulders, crossed the perimeter and  _stopped._ All eyes of the ANBU cell were on the motionless subject.

From the earpiece Sakura wore, she heard Ken's voice speaking to Tatsu, "he's sensed the perimeter."

"But it's such an insignificant amount of chakra – "

"Engage. Pattern Three-Red."

Suddenly, Sakura was actually on a mission again, present in every muscle of her body.

The attack formation deemed she stayed away from the area of fire, but after her three team mates dropped down to their target, a problem became obvious.

Sai was the close-range on the offensive. Sakura watched his movements became sluggish and his limbs twitched. Ken and Tatsu noticed but didn't discern the cause, only reinforced that Sai pick up his speed and close his body's openings.

From her vantage point Sakura had a thought as to what was happening, and then she saw a wisp of movement from the target's mouth.

She knew Sai's movements from their year of trading hits in sparring sessions. She could almost predict how he would duck and twist. And with a rush of adrenaline, a backing of Nocturne, and the instinct of  _fight_ , Sakura did predict when she could move her body between his and the target's.

A long breath and over her mouth and nose she laid a barrier of medical-ninjutsu, preventing air from entering or escaping. She moved, and with one leg to kick Sai back, and two arms out in front of her – she snapped the man's neck.

Maybe harder than she intended, because the tissue and bone and blood between her hands crushed inward under the force of her hit, pressure went up and so did the man's decapitated head.

But at least, in the spray of red and gore, the mechanism pumping out poison gas hidden in his throat was eliminated.

With the backdrop of Ken's quick words, none of which Sakura registered, she turned around and focused on getting the poison from Sai's system.

-o-

When she first saw it, Sakura didn't recognize Sai's ink ninjutsu for a very specific, manufactured reason.

His was an original ninjutsu style that did not come from any clan or any person that could be traced back to Konoha. It was the same for the seals Tatsu used, in that they were completely generic and also could not be linked directly to seals their village favored. Ken fought using sword techniques borrowed from Konoha users or with techniques copied from other villages and martial artists.

Sakura hadn't recognized Sai's technique because she wasn't supposed to recognize it. This sort of approach to ninjutsu lowered the possibility of ANBU actions being tied to Konoha, and most especially when the ANBU cell in question was trespassing and operating in allied disputed territory.

Which was exactly the case for Sakura's cell at the moment.

And as for the barehanded strength Sakura had just used to instantaneously sever and pop off a man's head – Ken seemed to think someone might find that suspiciously similar to their Hokage's technique. He hovered over the body and considered what to do with it while Sakura healed Sai.

"We'll seal away the bounty and drop this one in the blast furnace," was Tatsu's suggestion.

"We're not going to the mill. I don't want this to look connected to that at all." Ken paused, and Sakura imagined he was staring at her with some frustration, but she couldn't see it.

"Stage it like it was a looting?"

"Only people looting in this are are those working for Carbon Man."

"So..." Tatsu hummed. "We're taking both bodies back with us?"

"And one injured," Ken decided. He asked Sakura, "you know how to seal dead bodies, right?"

From where she worked on Sai, who was quickly becoming delirious, Sakura nodded. She said, "I think that would be best. There's something weird about that guy."

"The headless one?" Tatsu specified, and there was the noise of what could have been a boot tapping at and rolling a ten pound bit of corpse.

"Didn't you think so? His facial expressions and his body's movements were incongruous." Sakura had watched people fight before but now she had the added awareness of her medical background and an appreciation for micro-movements not everyone would notice.

"When need to move,  _now_." Ken was less concerned about that observation. About Sai, "how soon until he can travel?"

Sakura glanced up to Ken, incredulous. "He shouldn't move at all right now."

"What if I move him?"

There wasn't going to be an ideal outcome in terms of her working situation no matter what, so Sakura hesitantly agreed to move him. "He'll be in pain, but that might be unavoidable any way."

She thought that would be the only say she had in the matter.

Ken surprised her. "Tell me how far we can go and where we need to be for you to finish your work."

Right. She was the medic-nin. She had that much authority.

"Of course," she replied.

After that they acted clean up crew. The perimeter seals were removed, the bodies stored away, and then several locations were blown up in a series of explosive tag detonations. If there's going to be a scene of crime, might as well make a few more just to keep the investigation busy.

Then they were making their way back to Konoha in a long, winding trail.

Sai lived but Sakura thought of her stained hands all the way to the village.

.

.

.

-o-

 


	10. The Stoke .i

_thread that pulls and pools, it's an itch in suffocation_

-o-

Back in Konoha and inside their secured entrance, Ken directed Tatsu and Sai, the latter at least mostly able to support himself, to their ANBU medical center, and then he pulled Sakura after him to another destination.

It was well after nightfall and the moon highlighted the city in a pale, bright light.

"We're not going to report in first?" Sakura asked. She hadn't even found out if they would debrief the Hokage like a normal squad's mission would require, or if there were other stipulations for ANBU cells.

"First we're going to Himeko," Ken replied. "She'll take the bodies. Then we'll report."

She had never before brought a body of an enemy nin into the village, but Sakura knew there were procedures in place for such an occurrence. Bringing the body to Himeko's lab, or anything like that, was not what she had expected to be part of it, and she realized there was still so much more to the black ops then she had previously considered.

Unless this action was related more specifically to her mission spying on Ken, Sakura thought. Maybe taking the bodies to Himeko was an extension of the will and power of the person behind Ken scouting her.

Sakura was silent for a long moment as they travelled rooftops, piecing together in her mind the potentials for a network around her. Their mission hadn't even come from the Fifth, as far as Sakura knew. Ken had proposed it to her and then had done the debriefing before they headed out. An official seal had been on the mission scroll, but other than that, there hadn't been anything at all linking their actions to the office of the Hokage.

Another recurring thought came back to her.

"Was I in the wrong when I killed that mercenary?" She asked, voicing a worry that had been a shadow haunting her for days. In certain cases, there was an order of precautions that had to be taken before engaging an enemy combatant, especially one of unknown origin. Killing an unidentified subject was not always a safe action, even if she had thought at the time it were warranted.

Ken didn't respond immediately, and when he did, all he said was, "I won't be the one to decide that ultimately."

He didn't specify that it would be their Hokage, and her suspicion told her it would be someone else.

"How will you describe it, then, in your report?" She couldn't stop some worry from entering her tone. Sakura and Kakashi and her mission had so much at stake if she were to mess up now. Her first real test as a solo operative  _failed._

Her company stopped short and Sakura mirrored the abrupt halt.

She thought he was going to snap at her for asking too many questions. He didn't.

"You're scared," he said to her, looking down at her for confirmation. Sakura inclined her chin and at the movement he brought his hands to either side of her mask. Not to remove it, as she assumed, but he rested his hands at her temple, fingers long and reaching the hairs escaping her tied hair at her nape.

"There's something you need to know," Ken said, and she heard a quietly discernible difference in his intonation. More intensity than she were used to, perhaps. "When you put on this mask, what happens while you're wearing it stays within our ranks. That is not a  _suggestion_  and I want you to know that now."

Sakura frowned and he caught her silent question of 'how is this related?'

"It was your first kill, wasn't it?" He asked and she nodded again. "You won't be able to talk it out with anyone. If there are...things for you to process, then you can talk to me about it. Understood?"

"Yes," she said, and thought she  _sort_   _of_  did.

"Good." He took a beat, brushed at loose strands of her hair. "And all I will do is recite the facts of the mission. That's all you'll do in your report, too. Our duty is to maintain the  _transparency_  and  _integrity_  of our village operations. Nothing less."

Not quite as reassuring an answer as she would have liked, but she had been "reciting facts" for the better part of the past year, only then it was about _him_.

"You know," Ken said and he was still very close to her, hands caught up in her, and she felt she were picking up the warmth coming from him, "I want you with me on my next mission."

The warmth from him seemed to find itself on her cheeks, seeping down her chest to her swelling heart. She replayed his words as they resumed their traveling.

-o-

The woman in Lab 04 was of an indeterminate age, wore her make-up to look exceptionally pale, kept her hair long and black, and had to Sakura an eerily familiar look and mannerism about her.

Himeko cooed in a put upon silky voice when Ken opened the door.

"My favorite little tom," she said of him. Noticing Sakura, "and he's brought the little pup as well."

Immediately altering his attitude, Ken laughed a mild, charming sound. "How's the science going, doctor?"

Sakura refrained from rolling her eyes. The two had a weird relationship and nothing about it seemed sincere, and they oddly both seemed to know as much.

"It's going and I'm very busy," Himeko replied, and that much appeared to be accurate. She had charts and scrolls laid out in front of her, brushes and different bowls of ink, reference books, anatomical studies, chakra maps. Instruments were spinning and whirring around them, something ticked a quick rhythm, smoke lingered at the ceiling and there was a hum of machines in the air. A kunoichi's lab in full operation. Eying the shinobi in front of her, "but I'll make time for you, of course."

"Isn't that sweet." Ken was smiling at Himeko when he pushed back his mask, and then he turned to Sakura and asked for the scrolls holding the preserved bodies. "But these are the boys that I think really need your attention."

Himeko was out of her seat and hovering over the medical tables the moment the scrolls dropped. She opened them and the smile on her face was wide and predatory. To the corpse that had come to her in separate parts, "oho, he's a real head turner."

"Will you be able to track these two before..."

"Don't doubt me now." She waved Ken away from her side as she moved around the body, pushing and pulling at different points. Glancing to Sakura, she surmised, "this is your doing? I would recognize that technique anywhere... Not just physical strength, but an application of chakra to take the tissue asunder."

Ken gave Sakura a calculated look as well, likely thinking he had made the right move to take the body.

"After all, you are the student of the very same Tsunade  _he_  so admired..." The woman was murmuring to herself then, continuing with her examination as if she were alone in the room. It was a dismissal of sorts.

As Ken started back to the door, "when you're finished, Himeko, let me know what you find."

Taking a new stock of Nocturne for himself and his team, they were off.

-o-

Sakura didn't get to keep her new ANBU uniform or mask and was in her regular old image when she next had to report for a meeting with Kakashi.

In the staff washroom of the One Eleventh Street Clinic, Sakura pulled from the pocket of her medic's apron a small, lavender colored pill. She rolled it with her tongue in her mouth, considered the bitterness of its coating, and pulled back her hair as she tipped her head to a faucet for water. She wiped her lips and fixed her presentation before leaving, stuffing her red hands into the pockets of her pristine white coat as she walked.

Kakashi noticed the unusual display immediately. He raised an eyebrow and said in greeting, "you look shifty. Got something to hide?"

She'd  _killed_  someone, Sakura thought. But Kakashi was being a little facetious about their situation. She made a face and pointed out, very fairly, "you always keep your hands like this."

"Then I'd know a thing or two about it."

"Would you like my report or not?"

"Hit me." Kakashi shrugged, then gave her an exaggerated frown when she tossed her mission scroll a little  _too_  eagerly at him.

"Well, you  _said..._ "

"I was expecting an oral report to begin with," he trailed off, and he focused on tearing into the scroll. "There's another report here for The Fifth?"

"Yes."

"This is a little vague."

Another, "yes."

She'd killed someone, but Sakura hadn't written as much in her report. She wondered if Sasuke had killed someone yet. She doubted very much that Naruto had. In a way, she was a step closer to their former teacher's level than either of her former team mates. Sakura then wondered why she'd had that thought and if the comparison even mattered to her.

Kakashi's eye was on her again, scrutinizing her from over the edge of her scroll. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yes," she said, and internally, she thought so.

"Mm.. ' _Yes, yes, yes,'"_ he mimicked her, returning to his reading. When he'd finished he let out a long breath. The report had been simple enough with no direct statements, but he had glossed something from her reading. "You're joining the cell?"

Ken had confirmed as much to her within their first morning after the mission-end. Sakura lifted a shoulder. "He said I work well with the team."

"He would," Kakashi murmured a little darkly. Catching himself, he added, "most everyone would. You're talented."

Sakura didn't say anything, her response derailed on a collision of a 'thank you' and an, 'obviously.'

He took a moment to mull over his next question. Finally, and with obvious hesitance, "did you ever learn more about the mission inception?"

His face was free of any emotion or tell once more, but there was a quiet thoughtfulness in how he watched her, waiting for an answer.

"Nothing's changed," she said. Except for the fact he had just cemented her thoughts about the truth of their mission. She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't and the frustration swelling in her lungs was hard to cull. It left her in a sharp breath out her nose. Bored, she asked, "are we done?"

"Anything else to add?"

Sakura was already eyeing her escape route, thinking about the patients she had on her roster, and Kakashi's apparent concern surprised her.

He saw as much from her and added, "you seem tense."

She wasn't  _tense_. She was just...different. "I'm not."

"Right."

'I killed someone,' she almost said, and the imagined words were a hot bulb in her throat and she didn't speak. "It was a long time to be away. I'm readjusting."

"And your team treated you well out there?"

"I'm fine," she insisted. She wasn't going to crack. Was he expecting that from her? Sakura said, "Ken's very... respectful."

Kakashi sucked his teeth. Suggesting otherwise, "I'm sure."

"He's more forthcoming than you," Sakura slipped out, wanting to argue his dismissive attitude. She felt a little bit of their old relationship try and rouse itself in her blunt assessment, but she snapped her mouth shut and looked away from her former teacher. She amended, "but I understand why that is, anyway."

"Like him, I have my orders as well." Kakashi stored away her mission scroll, didn't acknowledge her glare at his insinuation. "He's playing you."

"I've gathered, thanks," Sakura said, a bare resentment in her tone. Ken wanted her falling for his honesty and support and belief in her abilities. "At least  _he_  has some decency while he does it."

"Some of us are better actors than others." Kakashi didn't bat an eye at her barb. He tossed her another scroll. "Your instructions; carry on as you were."

Sakura fixed her frown on the new scroll, focused on breathing away her agitation.

"You wanted to go, didn't you?"

"Sir," she said, dropping her chin in a curt farewell.

He didn't know. He didn't  _really_  ask, did he? He'd accused her of being shifty and tense, but he had no appreciation for what she had done and what she was doing. That was the only sense Sakura took away with her as she left the room.

Did the ones giving Kakashi orders tell him to act this way or was Kakashi's obtuse nature too much for his mission? ...It was Kakashi, so most likely the latter.

For the first time, she wondered why Kakashi had been chosen as her handler for her mission, but she couldn't think of any good reason.

.

.

.

_-o-_


	11. The Stoke .ii

_there is company in shadows_

-o-

Inside the official quarters designated for the Hokage there was a courtyard, outfitted to completion with a garden, pond, and a small pavilion, and that was where Kakashi found himself summoned for a meeting with the Fifth.

It was a cloudless and unusually warm winter night, and so they sat across from one another inside the open-air pavilion, comfortable from an oil heater and basking in the glow of candle lanterns. On a table between them there was a spread of documents laid out for Kakashi's reading. The information related to a particular operative.

"Do you think it would be a good fit for Naruto?" Tsunade asked.

"If you're trying in terms of creating a substitute for what he might have had in Team Seven? ...Then, no, I wouldn't say so."

The man in question was too positive and too patient, Kakashi thought, to provide anything like the atmosphere of the boy's former team.

"Tenzou will be a better fit," he said in resolution. "And there's always the benefit of his genetics, too."

Tsunade hummed in agreement. "As unfortunate as it is for me to say, but that's certainly a major component for the placement."

"So then the Fourth's seals really are weakening?" Kakashi mused, keeping his tone flat.

"Weakening isn't the word," Tsunade answered. She leaned forward in her seat to push around photos on the tabletop. "I'll keep you updated, but there isn't much that's very pressing about Naruto at the moment. I wanted to talk to you about our other lovely student."

"Ah, of course." Kakashi had guessed as much. He switched to their predetermined code words to discuss Sakura. "She has that new trial for the procedure she's been working on, right?"

' _About her recent ANBU assignment..._ '

Even within the walls of her home, Tsunade was not one to risk speaking freely, but in so many words, she told Kakashi that she had learned of Sakura's new cell and their mission in its official capacity. Against the official record, she had been able to refer between reports submitted both by 'Ken' and then, covertly, Sakura as well. There was a discrepancy.

"I've given her the go-ahead for the next phase of preliminary testing," Tsunade told him. There would be another mission to the Carbon Man's territory; a retrieval of account numbers and transactions. She suspected there would be another ulterior motive on behalf of Root and would approve Sakura rejoining the team.

Danzo wanted Sakura to have more exposure to his people and his ideologies, and in an environment that offered more opportunity to test her combat capabilities. Putting her in an ANBU cell was most definitely a riskier and longer con than other options, but it showed a keener interest in Sakura's development. It was one of the routes Nara Shikaku had foreseen happening – very different from the quiet girl passing secrets overheard from her chores in the Hokage's office, as Kakashi had envisioned.

"She would appreciate hearing from you, you know." Tsunade reclined back in her seat, done with her perusing. The smile she wore looked calm but there was a sharpness in her eyes that Kakashi didn't miss. "This is an important process for her, if you can understand, and I'm sure she would welcome your support."

In so many words, he had better be there for her in more than just a nominal fashion. While Tsunade was blind to the idea of a lower level shinobi like Sakura, those who had been raised by the indoctrination of their village, and who had never had the luxury to leave or live of her own volition as Tsunade had, would ever lose their loyalty because of duty and obligation – she did understand the mental support and emotional needs present in a shinobi lifestyle. She didn't want Sakura to actually fracture beyond repair. Kakashi had to be there for her.

Tsunade continued, "maybe after these Wind conferences are concluded, I'll be able to resume more of my mentor responsibilities again. I would have liked to be right there with her in the lab for this."

"I don't think I'll manage as much as that... but if I happen to see her." He didn't want to be that person for Sakura. Kakashi couldn't fathom himself as capable enough for that task. He wasn't right for it – he knew that.

And yet, he didn't have a choice.

Tsunade breathed out a laugh and said in a drawl, "you're such a quick commitment, Hatake."

But she meant it – she wanted him to start participating as they moved forward to the next phase of their mission.

-o-

Ken hadn't told her about the type of training he wanted to do with Sakura while Sai was still out of commission recovering from his poisoning. He had told her to meet him at training grounds Seventy-Three and she obliged.

Arriving at the training grounds, Sakura looked over the practice dummy Ken had brought with him. There were stripes of colored tape running up and down and across the body, inked-in Xes dotting the tape at different places. There was also a new person standing next to Ken, and when Sakura was close enough, she could see the telltale white eyes of a Hyuuga clan member staring out at her from behind a porcelain mask.

Sakura then had a better idea of the dummy's purpose.

"You understand this will only be an approximation; chakra pathways are not perfectly standard and each body has a unique system." The Hyuuga clan member, a younger woman Sakura didn't know, sounded a bit reluctant and skeptical as she spoke with Ken.

"She's got her own way of working around that," Ken assured, apparently speaking about Sakura as he winked at her. He went on, "medic-nin are fairly familiar with chakra coils."

The woman scoffed. "The more talented ones, maybe. Even so, it's nothing like what my eyes can understand."

Sakura straightened her shoulders and resisted insisting that her mentors were literally the best medic-nin in the nations and that she herself was a pretty solid student. But, of course, she was just an anonymous Mask at the moment and refrained from sharing anything incriminating about her identity...

"Let's see what you got, Haruno," the woman said.

"You know who I am?" Sakura asked, bewildered.

"Yeah, that's not going to be a secret in the ops, apprentice. You're a little hard to overlook." He gestured to her hair.

Sighing, Sakura nodded her head and, despite everything, felt somewhat guilty for not being more inconspicuous. About the training exercise, "what's this all about, anyway?"

"This is prep for your next assignment tracking Carbon Man," supplied Hyuuga.

"You'll need to have subtler submission methods than you've been, ah, deploying so far." No more decapitation attacks, Ken meant.

"And you'll need a greater arsenal than you've shown so far. As much of an accomplishment its execution can be, there's not so much a need for smashing up the earth in this mission." Hyuuga was very obviously sizing up Sakura, looking and sounding unimpressed. To Ken, and not  _very_  unkindly, "this is his choice then? I'm not sure she's the best option..."

"She is," Ken said, tone not allowing for any more argument.

They spoke around her and Sakura told herself not to be offended, though she felt uninformed. When she could, she asked, "why is this mission different from the other?"

Ken answered her. "You'll be working undercover as a civilian, so you'll be limited by what you can do without garnering too much attention. We'll need every action you take to be both as slight and efficient as possible."

"Undercover," she repeated. And suddenly she thought maybe Hyuuga was right; there were only so many layers of subterfuge and espionage she could handle. Probably. But refusal wasn't an option. Curious, Sakura asked, "as who?"

Retrieving a scroll, Ken summoned a dossier on their mark. He handed a photo to Sakura and she recognized the man from the convoy massacre in the forest. "Remember him? Well, since the Carbon Man's attack on his convoy and family, he's been in the market for a new spouse. We've intercepted his messages and we'll be swapping you in for the woman his father's sent him. Miyabe doesn't intend to leave the area, but maintaining his lifestyle means he's in the Carbon Man's pocket. We've picked up an increase in correspondence and meetings between the two and suspect they're now 'working' more closely together..."

Sakura listened as Ken continued explaining the situation, the new mission objectives, more about her role, and she heard him – she did – but it was muffled by a dull white noise of worry.

"...and so when you're close enough, disabling certain chakra points with your hands will be most effective. It won't involve a physical struggle that could be damaging, and there won't be a time delay for hand seals..."

There was a pause and Sakura took the moment to speak. Very smartly, she said, "I'm sorry, but you mentioned 'spouse.' I'll be posing as this man's, Miyabe's, new – ?"

"Bride to be?" Was Ken's suggestion, while at the same time Hyuuga chirped, "pussy."

Without waiting for a response from Sakura, Ken continued to the other woman, "she'll need to have practice on multiple bodies. After the dummy training today, can you come back tomorrow when my student and Tatsu are here as well? I'd like to see how she manages different builds."

"The more bodies the better."

Sakura let her gaze settle on empty space as the discussion continued without her direct involvement. Maybe she should have been beyond such trivial things, she was a medic and a proven soldier, but her stomach had dropped at Hyuuga's word choice.  _Pussy_.

Ninja were not the only disposable people in the world, Sakura thought and it sobered her in an unpleasant way.

"She's looking a little green. Has she been on this type of op before?" Hyuuga was saying, again concerning Sakura, who glanced up at the change in topic.

Ken gave Sakura a quiet stare from behind his mask and she couldn't discern his expression. Finally, he said, "no."

His tone was almost sympathetic. Or maybe worse than that – pitiful.

In her typical manner, Sakura took pity as a challenge. She tilted her chin up, and with misplaced bravado, declared, "it's fine. I can handle it."

She would do the mission with Ken.  _Greater things_  were at stake if she didn't. She had to perform her duties no matter their nature. On her last mission, she had killed someone, hadn't she? In her mind, the  _snap_  of tissue under her hands and the splitting of bone still echoed. She had taken that life and that metaphorical plunge. As a kunoichi, she had signed away her life to her leadership. Was there any greater price to pay as a soldier and servant to her village than that?

Whatever they asked, by wearing the Leaf insignia, she had long ago acknowledged that she was fully and wholly their investment and weapon.

She had agreed to that status again and again.

"She'll be ready," Ken said to Hyuuga, not taking his eyes from Sakura. There was conviction in his voice and that he had understood her soothed Sakura's reservations.

And his confidence in her ability to precisely locate chakra points had proven true. Sakura's expertise in the mystical palm technique had sharpened her sensitivity to chakra pathways and how they flowed; she memorized the general map as laid out by Hyuuga and was able to quickly apply the information to sensing chakra in her own body.

Chakra in a pathway versus chakra at a point felt different, moved differently, acted and responded differently. It almost became more tangible.

At the end of the training, Sakura was already hypothesizing techniques using medical ninjutsu with this new understanding she had gained. It could be more than what the Gentle Palm style provided for the Hyuuga clan; there were so many more avenues to explore.

"She seems sore," Sakura said about the Hyuuga clan member after she had left. She was resting against the dummy, stretching out her limbs and trying not to yawn. It was early morning and despite the lack of physical exertion, she was tired.

Ken eased from his katas and joined her, swiping her canteen for himself. He pushed back his mask, let out a breathy laugh before taking a swig of water. "You're starting to trample her Hyuuga pride, picking up on the pathway like that. Knew you were smart, apprentice, but that kind of speed and complete memorization is unfair."

Kind of like how clan techniques and bloodlines were unfair, Sakura wanted to point out, but didn't. Instead, "everyone has a strength in something. I guess that's mine."

"You have other strengths too," Ken said. He shared Sakura's small smile, and then doused the hopefulness she had when he added, "and weaknesses."

"You mean about going undercover for this mission." Sakura chewed at her lip, reasoned her way around his doubts. "It's not like we know for a fact the woman I'm filling in for is some sort of perfectly suitable and experienced and willing – "

"Sakura," Ken interrupted her, "this isn't about appearing well practiced or not. It's about your stability. If you're not used to intimacy, if you're not prepared for the actions and violence that a situation like this can present, it can derail the mission and your status as a nin. Your health."

"I know human anatomy and I know violence," Sakura reminded him.

But he had a point to make, and gave her a mild grimace. "This can affect some people pretty severely. I'm not going to send out anyone who isn't at least prepared in the most basic sense for what could happen. Things that you'll need to let happen to you and then let go of without hesitation and second thought."

"I'm okay with that. That is a risk and expectation in every mission and as a kunoichi – "

Ken found her continued insistence less than reassuring. "As your Commanding Officer, I'm asking you to stand still, alright?"

Sakura frowned, stopped mid-sentence.

He was standing close to her and so Ken reached out and grabbed her chest, one hand cupping and tightening around her breast.

Her mind had two thoughts – embarrassment and anger – and deep in her chest, fear, too. She yanked back, maddened when he followed her and struggled around her trying to writhe away from him. He tightened his hold, tossed away her canteen to grab at her hair with his other hand and pull himself around her.

Reeling, Sakura stomped the ground and broke his grip with her strength. She backed away, gasping and humming with a rush of adrenaline.

When Ken still appeared calm and undisturbed, she realized he had been testing her. He quirked his mouth as a way of saying, "see?"

"How sexually active are you?" He asked.

She didn't immediately say anything or react further, and Sakura dropped her shoulders, accepting his perspective. He was right. She wasn't adequately prepared for this type of mission.

"So not even a little, huh," he said to himself. "I'm sorry about that. Are you alright?"

She nodded, rubbed her offended breast as gracefully as she could.

Ken waved her over and she returned to him. He petted at her hair and then nudged her into an embrace that she found somehow much more comforting and tolerable.

She relaxed into him.

It had been a long time since someone had last held her and she closed her eyes at the sensation.

"That's okay," Ken told her. She had her ear pressed against the rumble of his chest as he talked. "We have a way of dealing with that in our end of ANBU."

Sakura heard 'our end of ANBU' and tried to focus on that more than the ill dread and reluctant acceptance in her center.

.

.

.

-o-

 


	12. The Stoke .iii

_barefoot race on a moonless night_

-o-

Leaf nin did not have menstrual cycles, they did not  _unexpectedly_  become pregnant, and they did not  _accidentally_  impregnate others.

The first time Sakura bled was also the last. She had been twelve and from that moment on, she had been altering her body with medical-ninjutsu and other medications in order to keep her body out of such a vulnerable state. Typical practice for her profession; the ranks were much more effective this way, and the scarcity of unplanned pregnancies kept the village healthier.

So she didn't need to worry about contraception any more than normal when she entered the safe house in the outskirt barracks neighborhood of Konoha. Sakura worried about other things, though.

For one thing, despite having stretched earlier, her body was tense and uncooperative. Her knees trembled and her pulse was too fast. She felt both too warm and too cold, and there was perspiration coating her skin. Every little noise seemed very loud, both her breathing and her heartbeat too offending to her ears.

The studio apartment was bare except for a table, a single wooden chair, and a double bed low to the ground. She sat primly on the edge of the chair and kept her hands in her lap. The only source of light was from the streetlamps outside, and the slats of the window covers made a pattern across the bedsheets. The bedding looked a soft orange in the glow.

She looked at the bed, thought how she didn't want it to hurt. And then scolded herself – 'hurt' was part of the deal. And 'it' was sex, she might as well admit the word.

The door opened and Sakura looked up to see someone enter.

Sakura felt sick but told her body not to show as much.

"You're only barely pulling it off," the boy said. Removing his mask to get a better look, he guessed, "telling yourself this is no big deal, right? You've almost got it."

He was a stranger and entirely unfamiliar, but Sakura's first impression was that he was much better looking than she had imagined. And younger, too; he could have been her age, maybe a year or so older.

Seeing that she had taken the only seat, or maybe just to skip pretenses, the boy crossed the room to sit on the bed. He mumbled something as he sat down, pulling his high ponytail free to loosen his shoulder length hair. Black and straight and it framed his face nicely. He took a moment to rub at his neck and shoulders, making little sounds of relief and pain. He had a long, trim body that hadn't quite outgrown the gangly limbs of a teen, but he had the certain impression of control over his body of a seasoned shinobi. The same sort of stiffness from the day's end of a demanding profession.

She would have been fine to remain watching him, but as he unstrapped his shin guards, Sakura bounced to her feet and followed his lead, stripping off her shirt.

"Oh, whoa, hey..."

Sakura pulled her head free from the fabric and dropped the shirt still taut in her arms across her chest. She had hair in her face, but she mostly ignored it. At his hesitation, she asked, "what? Did I do it wrong?"

"No, you're good. But we don't have to jump in cold. ...I'm here to sort of specifically avoid that."

"I thought you were just here to …you know," Sakura said, sounding  _very_  sure of herself.

"Bone you?" The boy prompted and she nodded. He snorted, amused. "If that's all it was, I wouldn't have a job. No, I'm going to do a little more than that."

Her knees were still shaking and her pulse still fast, but Sakura felt her face grow warm, too, to complete her presentation of entirely embarrassed. In her mind, she wondered what he meant by his 'job?' And what else was there to their having sex than just the obvious?

"It's important you have a good experience," he went on. "You'll feel good, you'll understand those feelings, and then you'll learn how to 'act.' How to move and react. Playing a part, sort of. And you'll learn a whole shit-ton of other stuff, too. Human body, our brains, you know, they have some weird quirks. And tricks to get you turned on, prepared. Stuff like that."

"Oh," she replied, very astute.

"Yeah, I've been where you are. I know it's a lot."

"Yeah," she parroted.

The boy stared at her, watched as Sakura nervously blew a bit of hair from her lips, and considered her half undressed state.

"Alright, firstly, let's build some chemistry and trust..." He stripped his shirt off as well, to even out their circumstance it seemed, and then leaned back in his seat. "We can talk and...is there anything else I can do to help you relax?"

Sakura finished removing her shirt and forced her arms to remain at her side as she tried to open herself up to the situation. It was happening. No retreating. She ran things through her mind, trying to come up with something to help her relax that wasn't in the nature of reading or performing tasks in the lab.

Something simple and soothing.

"Could we... can I just start with sitting next to you?" Sakura asked.

Patting at the bed, he said, "sure."

"And can you talk a little about yourself or something? Nothing incriminating, of course."

"Of course."

Sakura joined him on the mattress, sat near enough so that her fingers could brush against his leg if she really wanted. "And maybe I'd like a name, too, to call you by."

"Tsuru," he told her. "It's my code name."

"It's nice."

"Sakura," he said softly, because everyone knew her name. "This  _is_  about you – what we're doing – but it's also about your body. Your body belongs to the village. All of our bodies do, really. Even for those of us unlucky enough to be born outside of clan or without a bloodline limit. That's just our reality."

"I know," she insisted. "I know that."

"No, yeah. No, I know you do," Tsuru insisted right back. "I'm just... sometimes it's easier if you can see your body in a different way. Do you know what I mean? Think of your body as a weapon... or a vessel. Something..."

Listening, Sakura remembered the moment she had cut into her leg for Sai.

"Think of my body as something separate from myself," she said, understanding him.

"Yeah," Tsuru agreed. "Like that."

Sakura could do that. That was easy.

 _Easy, easy, easy._  One simple  _slice_  –

She took a deep breath, let her shoulders fall a little with her exhalation. She could play as many roles as she wanted. Changing her position some, she eased herself down and across the bed, letting her head come to rest on Tsuru's thigh.

"Would you comb your hands through my hair?" She asked, and used their proximity to soak in the warmth of the body around her, to smell him, to watch the way his cheek pulled higher on one side to create a lopsided smile.

"That's a perfect place to start."

-o-

Kakashi knew why Danzo was sending Sakura away on another extended mission outside of the village; it gave his men more time to assess her and to indoctrinate her. Before Sakura would ever report on the Fifth, she would have to believe doing so was honorable and worthwhile. Until then, she was an expensive and delicate investment.

But, at the moment, standing as they were in their secret room of the One-Eleventh Street Clinic, he didn't want to talk to Sakura the Double-Agent. Or even Sakura the kunoichi. He just wanted to talk with her. Maybe let her talk to him? He didn't know what to say...

Sakura seemed to have a similar dilemma. She let her gaze wander the room as their greetings transitioned into an awkward, prolonged silence.

"Should I...go?" She asked him. "If there's nothing for me to report and since you don't have anything to say..."

"Are you well?" Kakashi asked, managing to sound devoid of emotion as usual, but actual it had been a bit of blundering on his part. He recovered by following up with, "eating well, I mean? Feeling well..."

"I'm well." Sakura had a very minute, suspicious line in her brow as she spoke. Tentatively, "and you?"

"I'm fine," he said too quickly. Another quiet moment passed.

He tapped his fingers on the desk he was leaned up against and Sakura's eyes flicked down to the movement.

"You seem nervous," she said, nodding to his hand. "Is there something else you have to tell me?"

"I don't have anything else to tell you."

"Oh."

Shit.

"You expect your team will treat you well...again?" He tried.

"I don't expect any trouble," Sakura assured him. She looked worried as she considered him, clearly put off by his inept attempt to reach out to her and offer support.

Everyone Kakashi loved was dead and he had forgotten how to talk sincerely outside of one way conversations with the memorial stone. It showed.

He resorted to his old fashion of comforting Sakura, stepped towards her and reached out to place a hand on the crown of her head.

When she didn't immediately jerk away, like he thought she might, he felt relieved. The emotion was brief. Sakura stared up at him, blank in expression, and didn't react at the gesture. She didn't blush and smile shyly like she might have when she were younger, and she didn't glare indignantly as she might have in meetings before.

"Are you alright?" She asked him, polite and somewhat distant.

Her lack of intonation made Kakashi retract his hand. He felt sour. "Am I alright? It's you who I'm worried about."

Right. Well, he'd said  _that_.

"Why?" She asked, apparently not at all offended. She was maybe a bit confused, and said, "I've come this far, what's there to worry about now?"

"I've been worried from the beginning," he told her. The admission must have been heavy because he felt a lightness in his chest as the words left him, waited in the air between them. He  _had_  been worried. He didn't know how to tell her, or how to help her, how to get her through the mission –

"Oh." Sakura huffed small sigh. "I know that. I know how you must feel."

Kakashi kept his mouth shut, unsure of what she meant, but happy to let her keep talking.

"You don't have to worry anymore. I'm different now." She nodded her chin, affirmation to him or maybe herself.

"What – ?"

"I'm not like that person from before." Sakura shook a little in her next breath, and he saw a tightness in her eyes as she looked at him. "I have secrets. Things I can't tell you, but I've... I'm handling things. I can handle things now."

"Secrets?" Kakashi asked, and he thought belatedly he might have focused on the wrong thing.

"Yes," she said. "I'm sure you knew I'd have them eventually. I'm starting to understand my position on this mission. But you don't have to worry. I was chosen for a reason, right? I'm trustworthy."

She was chosen for other reasons as well, he added internally.

"Excuse me for speaking freely, but I wish you would see that, too."

Kakashi frowned. Without much thought, he finally found that ever elusive honesty. "I trust you."

She didn't immediately process what he had said and was starting another point when she stopped. Mirroring his own uncertainty and vexation, she repeated, "you trust me?"

"Yes." The person he didn't trust was himself. He was the incompetent one. He wasn't  _enough_. But he couldn't let that truth leave him. He just reiterated, "I trust you. But that doesn't mean I can't worry. I don't want... I don't want another student of mine to get hurt."

" _Everyone keeps saying that,_ " mumbled to herself, and then, to him, "I'm a kunoichi, that's unavoidable."

Kakashi felt something inside him wither at her determination thinly veiling something else she didn't want him to see. He understood her, though. He said, "I know."

"Good."

He thought maybe their meeting and him 'supporting Sakura' hadn't gone the way Tsunade would have preferred. She probably wouldn't have liked the way her student left him with barely restrained tears.

Kakashi wasn't helping her; he might have been the problem.

He didn't really want to be that way any longer.

.

.

.

-o-

 


	13. The Stoke .iv

_white face black eyes red smile all the wile_

-o-

Reina did not carry herself like a typical teenager; she stood with a straight spine and gentle shoulders, assuring a confidence of never hearing 'no' and never knowing the banality of making requests. She spoke deliberately and without excitement, moved her body in much the same way. Every stride was an  _entrance_ , and her presence quieted a crowd.

The sight of her took the words from her betrothed's mouth –the man stared mutely at her as she stepped forward from her procession to meet him for the first time.

But then his eyes darted back to the dowry exchange and he found his voice again in the demands he made of his servants. An obvious show of dominance that didn't quite convince anyone in either party with the exception of the man himself. He was one for loudness and an extravagant presentation, but he was a young, lonely, and insecure man.

She could read his actions and learn how he would move.

As their gazes met again, Reina smiled at him with the smallest change in her facade –something only for him to spot in her eyes– and he again halted mid-sentence to consider her. Although he recovered, she knew any power he thought he had in that moment, in their relationship, was an illusion.

-o-

Something had happened years before Reina ever appeared in the territory of her new home. There were scars across the landscape, old and marring the buildings, hidden away in the people. She didn't know what had happened, thought maybe it had been from the decades old conflict between Fire and Stone countries, but she could feel a sense of muffled dread lingering still in the atmosphere.

Miyabe Shoma, her intended, wanted to talk as they traveled. Shoma was asking after her family's history in the porcelain industry, if she had been trained in the art, if there were any prospects for growing their interests elsewhere. What he was really asking, although he managed some amount of tact in not outright asking, was –why was this heiress coming to  _his_  home?

Reina had no intention of answering any of his questions that peppered in his babbling. She stared out the window of their carriage, pulled by six horses for show, and kept to herself. He would learn more about her intentions with time and when they were in a more secured place.

"You're so beautiful," Shoma said. Finally, he was taking a different approach in trying to get her to speak. He reached across the small compartment to gently run his finger down the fringe of hair framing her face. "I've never seen hair like yours before. Like the spring blossoms."

She kept her profile to him, but glanced his way. She smiled. "What a sad ending you see for me with such a comparison."

It took a beat for him to see her teasing for what it was and his abashed gaping smoothed into a grin. "I don't mean to be morbid."

It was okay, she thought, he had just lost his first wife. He could be morbid and she could handle that.

-o-

They lived in separate wings of his estate and met for meals in the common rooms bridging the sections, opened that afternoon to let in the bright winter sun. They sat around a low table warmed from an under-burning stone hearth.

The estate was a modern piece of architecture, but maintained traditional materials and elements of wealth. Every piece of moulding, every bit of décor, was purposefully and carefully arranged in an image of aged glory. She could still spot the tells of new construction and again felt the presence of past trouble. Something more than his private losses, something bigger.

"Are you comfortable?" Shoma asked her. They were sharing tea and he had brought out a set she supposed might have impressed her were she actually invested in porcelain. "Your finding the transition easy, I hope."

"It's tolerable," Reina said. The past week had been a fine meeting of luxury and performance.

"It's never easy, I suppose."

Shoma had a full waiting staff and a personal attendant who seemed to balance business and intimate matters. As they spoke, the attendant was within reach.

It was only prudent that Reina would expect a counterpart.

"I'm lonely," she told him and very pointedly let her eyes dart to the attendant.

In his typical fashion, she watched Shoma draw the conclusion as he followed her eyes and thought over her insinuation. "Oh. Right. We can – I'll be right on that."

"And I'm bored," Reina said, then took a delicate sip. She would be the one to make the interviews.

"Of course. Anything for you, my beloved."

He was half right.

-o-

Shoma was surprised by the woman she chose. He looked the woman up and down with visible confusion, stuttered out, "she's old." Tacked on, "Older, than I expected. Is she...properly trained?"

Or – _why is this common townsperson now in my fine house?_

"Yuzuho won't keep me worried," Reina said, not allowing for argument. It could have been taken as a statement about wandering eyes and hands, about potential pregnancy and lapse in employment, any manner of things. "She's a quick study."

Reina liked that most about Yuzuho; she was a quick study because the woman listened. Not for duties and expectations of an attendant, but more than that. What happened in this territory was the woman's business, and Yuzuho made sure of it without ever calling attention to herself. Reina appreciated that about her.

"How did you come to have her in your employment?" Shoma asked, still obvious in his appraisal.

She had no reason to tell him she had found Yuzuho in a shit situation, had given her a sure way out, had earned the woman's gratitude and trust with a show of power and confidence.

"Why, dear, I asked her, of course."

-o-

The estate was large and if she really wanted, she could lose herself somewhere for a few days. Between the guest house by the pond, the stables, the green houses, the boat house, and the storage cellars, she had plenty of spots to chose from. Reina picked the library out of necessity.

Being in the library meant she was within Shoma's wandering range and eventually he found her.

It wasn't his office or his private collections, so she didn't hide any of her reading materials when he appeared. His eyes went over the assortment of lodgers and maps, different accounts and records. All local business. Some his, some not.

The schematics of the iron and steel mill dominated the table where she was set up.

"Not the direction I had imagined you would be growing in," he said, then took his time reading down her body.

Reina didn't shift very much from her position, didn't immediately look away from her current text. Slowly, she moved one leg out, tracing an arc in the floor with her toes. She knew he was watching. Her foot found his and inched upwards, a lingering path following the inside of his leg.

"I imagine," she drawled, "that first you imagined  _you_  would be growing here..."

Her foot rested in a very wanting place.

"And then I," she said, and while one hand flipped a page the other went to her middle, "would be growing here?"

"I want you," he told her, because Shoma was never a subtle person. He leaned a movement against her foot, insisting but it was more like begging.

She moved her foot over the top of his thigh, put some weight into her toes in a hint for him. Obediently, when he understood her instruction, Shoma let his knees bend. She said, "if what you want can overlap with what  _I_  want, then I do not see what is stopping you."

Because while he was not a subtle person, Reina was. And she was subtle, subtle, subtle.

-o-

They came in the night, Yuzuho told her when Reina asked about the old trauma hidden in the town.

Reina liked the woman and they spent the evenings alone in her quarters trading words and alcohol. Yuzuho was like another woman in that way. She was rougher, smaller, more vulnerable than that other woman, but she was the most informed person Reina had found and Yuzuho was strong for that.

They didn't target the civilians, she told Reina, they only wanted the members of the dying shinobi clans. Young girls and boys disappeared from the shadows, deeper into the darkness without a noise. None were ever seen again.

But Reina was in the territory for other reasons and she couldn't mind the old scars on the landscape and on the people.

There were fresher wounds to which she had to attend.

"Surely they were not swept into working for that mill?" She asked and poured another cup for Yuzuho.

"No. The  _mill_ ," said with a slur like a curse, "that's a whole other bit of salt..."

Reina nodded and listened.

-o-

Had Sakura been a civilian plant, then her role in the mission might have had a much longer timeline; being that she was a kunoichi and had access to a vast array of sleuthing skills and techniques, her infiltration into the Carbon Man's operation was a relatively quick task.

The team responsible for assembling and drafting her new identity had been working since the culmination of her first mission into the Carbon Man's territory. She had to be a convincing and attractive candidate for marriage, with a believable incentive for when she had to start infiltrating the operation from within her new home. There had been plenty of preparation for acquiring all of the appropriate information –cultural habits, style, mannerisms, and etcetera concerning her new persona– but the team was absolute in their research and Sakura had always been one for memorization. While working on the painstaking chore of altering her appearance, speech, body language, and attitude until all came naturally to her, Sakura kept the end goal of her mission at the forefront of her focus.

Her village understood that the Akatsuki used the Carbon Man to organize bounties, but the question remained of what the Carbon Man received in return. It was so far undetermined if there were an agreement of protection, of later financial reward, or perhaps of assured political sovereignty at some future point if ever Akatsuki organized into a state. Maybe some other form of reward. Whatever the conditions, it was Sakura's priority to figure out the relationship, and, at the same time, find the weakness between the Carbon Man and his subordinates. If a weakness did not exist, then she would have to manufacture a reason for dissent to grow. With dissent would come incentive for mutiny, and it was her ultimate prerogative to remove the Carbon Man from power and replace his leadership with one aligned with Konoha's interests.

The result of her efforts wouldn't include stopping the bounty operation, but it would make transactions between parties more transparent to and potentially malleable for Konoha. It would keep the Akatsuki from seeking another source of income. It would create opportunities to learn more about their cloaked members.

These interests would of course be obfuscated and the Konoha's involvement completely undisclosed. It was Sakura's duty to manipulate everything from the shadows without revealing herself as an operative to anyone save her "husband." Even then, she would only admit to her faux 'family' being behind her interests with the Carbon Man's territory. Flipping and securing her spouse's allegiance was top priority, but he would never know her status as a kunoichi.

She would only ever be Reina to him.

As Sakura had been reminded many times over the last year, holding and controlling information was a powerful,  _valuable_  asset in the shinobi world.

.

.

.

-o-

_Don't forget to check in with your thoughts as the story develops_

_Thank you for reading!_


	14. The Burning

 

_soft caress, a white fingered grip, the hit the hit the hit_

 -o- 

In his room, Shoma had four columns bordering his floating platform bed, and between each there were curtains that ran to the floor. The inset fireplace from the opposite wall turned the sheer white fabric a dark, warm red and everything else was shadow and the lining of veiled light. The ceiling was high and decorated above the bed in a lattice pattern of woodwork, but Reina couldn't see that detail very well at the moment.

“You're always thinking,” Shoma said. He was curved around her and his voice, low and drawn and textured, came from above her head. His breath was a light touch on her hair, even and constant. “Isn't it exhausting?”

He wasn't criticizing her, just observing. And he wasn't wrong.

She made a noise that wasn't really anything distinctive beyond, 'I'm acknowledging you spoke.'

“I want to show you something,” he said, and a little eagerness tinted his words. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head before pulling away. He was smiling like a child with a secret. “Wait here. I'll be right back.”

In two minds, she wondered what he was up to when he didn't return for several long minutes.

Finally, she heard his footsteps and quiet murmurings as he entered the bedroom. She smelled grass and dew on him as he pushed the curtains back. One arm was wrapped protectively across his chest and she saw something moving there.

Shoma inched his way across the mattress to where she had propped herself up on a stack of pillows. He cleared a space in the sheets between them before placing down what he had been carrying in his arm. It was a wispy ball of fluffy hair that twitched quickly.

Reina cooed unintentionally at the baby rabbit. “It's so tiny!”

“Isn't she?" 

“She's so soft!” Reina ran one finger down the rabbit's back, petting the long hair. In another second, she had picked it up and was cradling it against her chest. “She's so little.”

Shoma resumed his place curled around her, and they both indulged in babying the animal.

When he spoke again, he was wistful and nostalgic. Sad. He said, “Azusa and I were married when we were eighteen. She miscarried three times.”

Azusa had been killed by the Carbon Man's mercenaries. Reina knew that much about the woman. Aside from an altar in her memory in a private room, the estate had been cleaned of her presence.

“She really wanted to be a mother. We kept trying. She was... When she died, she was...” Shoma didn't finish the thought, but the intent was apparent.

Reina let some of her weight lean into him and he gratefully rested his head on hers.

“They take and they take,” he said, and she knew he was referring to the Carbon Man. There was anger in him, but there was more anguish. He had listened to Reina's thoughts about expanding some of their 'interests' into the Carbon Man's territory, of subverting the man's financial means and taking the metaphorical rug from under his feet. Shoma had agreed to go along with the plans, but not for any monetary stakes. He hated the man.

Shoma whispered another confession to her, more roughness of emotion than before, quieter and remorseful, “I really wanted to be a father...”

Reina didn't say anything.

-o-

The messenger hawk was waiting for her on the roof of her intended's quarters. Reina's intended's quarters. The hawk waited for Sakura on the roof of her mission cover's quarters. 

Sakura secured the wraps around her wrists, the last bit of her unmarked uniform for the night, before accepting the scroll from the hawk's outstretched foot. Ken and the rest of their cell were circling her on the peripheral of the territory, never staying in one location very long, but his messenger hawk found her twice a week with updates. She unsealed the scroll and read over Ken's message; he gave her the official approval of her suggested replacement for the Carbon Man, followed by instructions for her next movements.

She left the estate to do more reconnaissance around the mill operation. It was her duty to infer possible points of contention, figure out how she could make a new boss an attractive option for the people working under the Carbon Man.

Sakura didn't have any trouble finding potential weaknesses; the people working for the Carbon Man lived mostly in a shanty village around the mill. From her perch in the trees overlooking the hastily and shabbily assembled shacks, she could tell that the men and women were in miserable living conditions.

Yuzuho would look like a god if she could provide clean and accessible water. ...Properly built barracks, sewage management, reliable electricity, health and medical treatment... Sakura had a checklist of offenses to consider.

The most enticing would probably be wealth and security, she thought. Perhaps the most successful way of undermining the Carbon Man would be to find and destroy his money. It was one thing to shave off money for himself, being that he was the man on top, but what a tragedy if the Carbon Man were then very publicly to _lose_ all of it.

Putting these actions into place would be another step for another night, and so, with her new plan in mind, Sakura dropped from the canopy to make her way back to Miyabe's estate on foot. She didn't have a sense of urgency to hurry –she had a clone feigning sleep in her room– but as she walked, something began to feel off. She realized what was different in the absence of the common noises of a winter forest, the calls of owls and the rustling of small animals, that had accompanied her all night. The unease of something being _too quiet._

Sakura made the fatal mistake of tensing her body when she caught onto the atmosphere, and she supposed it was that change in her body language which spurred the person tracking her into action.

The whistle of metal through the air and she dropped to her side to avoid the weapons. The kunai were a feint, and she was unable to roll away from the drop kick coming for her fast enough. She was on her back and she threw one forearm up to take the brunt of the hit, the other arm up so she could grab the person's leg to trap them. Finding a hold, she pinched deep into the tissue of her assailant's leg, clawing for the artery in their inner thigh, and pushed all her weight in one direction to pull the person to the forest floor with her.

Several factors were not in Sakura's favor: she did not have her weapons and equipment; she was alone; she was the prey of a stalking enemy and had been taken by surprise; and she could not use any techniques that could be traced back to Konoha.

Sakura yelped out a short cry and amended –she was also injured.

The person had stabbed her under her shoulder blade and it felt like the instrument was still lodged into her back.

On the ground and the two of them had devolved their fight into a wrestling match. It took Sakura a second to tell that her assailant was a young woman of a similar size and build. They were reluctant to use ninjutsu or genjutsu, but it was clear they were each kunoichi or had received some training at the least.

Sakura was stronger. Or maybe she was just that much more _determined._ She could feel the energy –the resolve– draining from the other girl, even as Sakura pushed through the white hot pain of the metal piercing into her own body. Her mouth was iron full, teeth slippery as she resisted clenching her jaw, and she thought the clip from the girl's elbow had most likely broken her nose. Her hands were wet with sweat or saliva or blood, and she kept tangling them in long strands of hair as she tried to choke the girl between her legs. Knocked her head back into the earth and tried to strangle her.

She might have done it, snapped the bone under her thumb and let the girl drown in herself, if her clone's dispersal hadn't knocked the breath from Sakura's lungs. The imagery hit her in a slam –snapped the air from her middle and she wanted to fold into herself. The pain in her shoulder, the split across her face dulled and she couldn't breathe.

She could smell the smoke, though. She tasted ash and burning flesh in her mouth –but it wasn't _her_ mouth. It hadn't been but it _was_.

Sakura's limbs were shaking and not completely obedient but she crawled off her opponent and backed away. She had to go. _She had to go_.

The estate was aflame.

She grabbed the kunai still in her back and stuck it into the girl's leg, deep into her thigh and then Sakura ran.

It was another attack –like the one Yuzuho had spoken about and Sakura had ignored.

Shoma was burning.

-o- 

Akatsuki wouldn't be working with the Carbon Man any more. The Carbon Man was gone and so was half the population in his territories.

The raiding party had come in the night, stolen away children and cut down adults. Ransacked and burned property and stores. Any person with even a hint of affluence had been targeted first and neutralized. Ken posited that Sakura had been sought out by a sensor looking for significant chakra signals. To kill her or to take her, he didn't know, but he scolded her for not ending the girl in the forest.

Sakura didn't have anything to say in her defense. She wished she could return to the estate but her Captain didn't want to involve themselves in the affair any more. Not now, not when other villages would be coming to investigate. Their cell didn't need to hang around and she especially did not need to be seen by anyone.

It was another stained red path back to Konoha.

-o-

Konoha was bright with winter sun; it was a crisp and cloudless day.

Mission Failed report.

She hadn't been in attendance, but Ken had gone earlier that morning after they had gotten back to the village. Intelligence from other cells and sources told of Otogakure having been responsible for the raiding. Ken told her it was a card from Orochimaru's deck and apparently everyone knew this about the man save for Sakura.

Or at least they had been aware enough to suspect, but not Sakura. No one had shared as much with her.

Tsunade must have known...

Sakura could see her breath in the air. She would have thought the sight magical when she were younger, but it didn't stir anything in her just then. She just wanted the misty little cloud to disappear. She wanted the crowds on the street to quiet and to leave, for all the noise around her to stop. She settled for stumbling into an alley between buildings, into a forgotten place that eyes often overlooked.

The alley was full of steam from vents and her breath was lost in the mix. Restaurants and shops to either side of her, and she thought there must have been a residential home above that had a busted disposal; she could see scraps of food splattered and broken on the ground. She let her weak knees take her down to be with the discarded bits, felt the damp that always seemed to occupy alleys and backstreets press into her skin.

Sakura clutched at the grooves in the brick wall with one hand as the other grabbed at her chest to twist the fabric of her shirt into a painful knot. It felt like an edge of glass prying through her skin. A little fissure she tried to stop with insistent pressure. It crumbled into grainy sobs. There was no bandage or wrap that could keep it together so she cried.

But she had cried over corpses before and it had never done any good, so she stopped. She put her fist to her mouth, bit on her dry skin and told herself it was enough.

Yuzuho. Shoma. Reina. All things past and gone.

But _Otokagure_ – that village remained.

Sakura kept breathing. She was fine.

There was always another mission. There was always _the_ mission and she could focus on that.

She was fine.

.

.

.

-o-

 


	15. The Hiss .i

 

_it goes a circle of salt in the rising water_

-o-

The family apartment was empty when Sakura arrived after the failed mission in the Carbon Man's territory. She had collected herself from the alley and made an effort for a presentable image only for no one to greet her.

In a different place – another home – a leveled estate, a burned plot, no more greetings there... Sakura buried the thought.

She had outgrown her old house slippers and used her mother's pair instead. Her heel didn't quite settle in the right place.

The blinds were drawn and a cloud of dust escaped when she attempted to open them for the morning light – and quickly snapped them shut again. The bins were empty and cleaned, all the food dry goods, the heating unit set to 'away.' The ticking of the clock in the foyer was loud.

On the note board in the kitchen nook there was a letter from her mother; it started with news that Sakura's father had been assigned regular duty as an escort to the grandchild of the Fire Country Daimyo. There had been a little ceremony and everything – a very proud and memorable moment. Her mother had been assigned a tour as border patrol and would be gone for the next fourteen months. No ceremony for that and her mother showed her displeasure with a drawing of a frustrated face and rain clouds. She was also very jealous Sakura's father would be seeing their only child before she would likely even have a chance to write. And with a final flowery flourish of hearts and smiles, Haruno Mebuki wrote that she was very proud of their daughter and all the good work Sakura was doing.

It was in the interest of the village that spouses with children were not sent out in cells and missions together. The same went for siblings. The reasoning came after four members of a small clan had been killed together while on a mission; the lone survivor back in the village was a child not old enough to practice ninjutsu and so their clan technique had been lost to the village.

Sakura realized as she thought about this story that the child had also been orphaned. But such a thing was too common an occurrence to be seen as detrimental in Konoha – the strong children would manage and survive.

As for the weak? No one cared about that circumstance.

No one cared save for the orphans themselves, Sakura had eventually learned. To anyone else, orphans were an understood condition of life inside the village.

Lonely children were plenty.

They made great operatives all the same.

Sakura stared at her mother's sign off and then re-read the note, her eyes pausing on the last line of encouragement. Her mother thought Sakura had been on a mission inspecting clinics in the countryside – and so had no way of knowing "all the good work" was really something very different.

Unpinning the note from the board, Sakura held it to her chest. The thin paper was like nothing at all in her hands and the gesture felt lonelier and more foolish than she wanted. She replaced the note.

She didn't have time for reminiscing anyway; she had a schedule to follow.

Sakura went to the room with all her childhood things, untouched and still dutifully, mockingly, in place, to prepare for the day.

Normal protocol would have her off active duty for a recovery period after her mission, especially after one so immersive and stressful. The village leadership had found that function and operations went more smoothly and more successfully if proportionate rest periods were required after higher grade missions. Mental, physical, and emotional distress was an entirely too costly result otherwise. Her ANBU cell was given four weeks off officially, but unofficially – or secretly officially – Sakura was  _always_  under the obligations of her mission with Kakashi.

As the apprentice to the Fifth, she had those responsibilities as well.

But then, she thought, ultimately, every ninja was always on-duty to the call of their Hokage.

-o-

Haruno Sakura might have been the Apprentice to the Fifth, but to the managers and administrators in the One Eleventh Street Clinic she was just another worker body.

To some, she was a young, upstart kid trying to put older, wiser senior medics and doctors to shame. And she was always slacking off and disappearing only to reappear with nothing to show for herself. Sure, she might have led operations in the hospital, but could she keep the charts in order and finished in a timely manner? Was she very good about the logistics of keeping a full-time clinic sufficiently supplied? Her bedside manner with patients was pleasant enough, but she really had an arrogant streak undermining the medical opinions of her seniors.

Sakura had seen two patients and already found herself pulled aside for a reprimanding from the head physician, Mushimi.

"We don't offer chakra healing to civilians," he said. It was the introduction to a lecture she had heard before and one she had ignored before. "It's too dangerous."

It wasn't, Sakura wanted to retort. Not in a physical sense, which she knew he didn't mean, but neither was it detrimental in other ways.

There wasn't a litigious culture over 'malpractice' in the village, but Mushimi and the administrators liked to use the excuse of budget, expenses and compensation, to argue against chakra healing. There was no pay chart for chakra healing and so there was no way to determine the costs of a patient's visit if Sakura healed them, and then that led to other things in the clinic's budget not getting covered. Things like equipment and pharmaceuticals, and new tech and software for when a medic-nin wasn't around to 'magic away' ailments.

'Medic-nin can heal broken bones, but they can't seem to stop strep throat!' was a favorite she heard.

"Can't they just pay what they can afford for the treatment?" Sakura tried.

Mushimi made a show of pitying her suggestion. "That could never work. Do you think anyone would pay if they didn't  _have_  to? How naive. You should really learn more of human nature, Haruno, it's much darker than you seem to think..."

Sakura, a ninja, seamed her lips.

He finished his lecturing with the typical threat of relocating her, and then, also in a typical manner, limply sent her on her way because – in reality – he quite liked boasting to his friends that  _his_  clinic was the one working with the Fifth's Apprentice.

"You'll clean the pans, today, Haruno," was his last little prick of asserting superiority as Sakura turned to leave.

As if any amount of any bodily fluid warranted a reaction from her at this point in her career – it didn't – but for a moment, she considered calling him out on the tired, juvenile attempt at a power play.

Other women wouldn't have stood for it.

Sakura turned to face the man and thought, Reina would never have coddled such a feeble, inconsequential action meant to humble her.

Reina would have let the man see in her face the vain impermanence of his tepid authority, to see the reflection of his own pathetic character by trying a move like that...

"I-is there an-anything else I c-can help you with?" Mushimi asked, hands and body stilled over the paperwork at his desk, his attention almost painfully on her.

"...No." Sakura lifted a shoulder, letting her thoughts go. That was all the Past. That was Someone Else. "At ease, doctor, I'll just be on my way."

She was Haruno Sakura and she had a boy with an upset stomach and a fever waiting for her in bay six.

The busy mantra in her head almost kept her from recognizing the silhouette that trailed her from an empty room to catch her arm.

The immediate thought upon seeing Ken was panic; for a second she thought she had been found out. And then she saw Ken's appearance, read his body language, and realized she was still in the clear. He had not discovered her and she was safely a Double Agent yet.

"There's no rest for the wicked, is there? Apprentice," Ken said in an affable greeting. He kept his voice quiet for the two of them, kept his body close for privacy.

Sakura returned his smile. "This is unusual. Have you missed me very much since this morning?"

"I have a proposition for you," he said, and giving the hallway of the clinic an unimpressed glance, "and I think you'll be interested. New training tactic. Much more worthy use of your time and skill, really."

"I can't just skip out on my job." She found the ego of an ANBU operative was truly unmatched.

"Come on, my company is so much better." At the skeptical look she gave him, "marginally more tolerable than that fellow's at least."

"I can meet tonight," Sakura allowed with a put-upon hesitance. "What's this about?"

Ken 'hmmed.' "Chakra control, of course. And...output..."

"Vague but intriguing," she said.

"As I aim to please..." And then he remembered something and pulled a packet from an inside pocket of his kunai pouch. "You had your supply torched, right?"

Sakura thought of the bottle of 'women's supplements' lost in the fire of her mission, and nodded. She accepted the resupply of Nocturne and tucked it away. "But we're on a rest period..."

"Just if you need it," Ken said. His light eyes were on hers and he carefully moved a bit of her fringe back behind her ear as he looked at her. The hair found its proper place on her face again and he gave a rueful smile. "See you tonight."

"Regular meeting place?"

He nodded. "And we'll have to talk more about upgrading your lab experience. Seriously, Haruno. Nothing so shameful as to waste talent."

Sakura pulled a face and then Ken was gone.

Waste and talent and worth and shame.

Sakura didn't know how to evaluate herself in relation to any of those things.

.

.

.

-o-

 


	16. The Hiss .ii

_a dash a trip, awash, and a fall, the dance_

-o-

Sakura had spent her morning training in refined healing techniques and had then spent her afternoon following up a project in Shizune's lab. She had the evening to herself – which meant she was following up on the training Ken had set out for her. That had been the cycle for her in the past weeks. Evenings in the blocks below Training Grounds Thirty complex recreation.

She considered the walls around her slick with condensing water and then returned her eyes to the empty bowl in front of her. With a few hand seals, she returned the water to the bowl and half-heartedly pawed at it until Ken made his presence in the room known.

He had been with Sai, resuming their two-man cell training while she had been assigned her task.

"Any progress I might be able to see?" He asked, hopeful and without pressure, as was his style when talking to her.

Sakura heaved a sigh and wiped her brow. "Can't say anything exciting has happened yet."

"You'll get it," Ken said. He pushed the mask from his face. "How are you feeling? Your energy alright? Your schedule is pretty busy."

Lifting one shoulder, she shrugged. "Hasn't bothered me yet."

If she designated so many hours to sleep and kept to a somewhat regular pattern, then she didn't have issues with keeping her energy consistent. Nocturne had managed to somehow circumvent some of the more debilitating drawbacks of other stimulants – such as sleeplessness and restlessness.

"And your supply..?"

"I'm still good."

"She has you storing away chakra."

Sakura felt the surprise register in her body before she could stop it. One of Ken's eyebrows twitched up, having noticed the brief flutter in her expression.

"Don't be surprised," he told her. Walking over to where she knelt in the center of the room, he held a hand out for her. "Anyone who knows you knows it was an inevitable development."

"Tsunade's technique is not something just anyone can learn," Sakura said, baring her skepticism.

"Proving my point – you're not just anyone."

He had his hands cupping her face, eyes flitting over her as if he might see the process under her skin.

Sakura huffed, trying to dissuade the blush on her cheeks from rising. For him, she was weak to praise. "Did you have a point? I thought you were just here because you got bored. You always seem to enjoy interrupting me."

"When did she start teaching you this?"

He was on a thought and Sakura felt a tremble in her chest, like a skip in her pulse, and kept her breath from hitching. It was the first time Ken had asked about her training as the Fifth's Apprentice, and by extension, Tsunade.

No more sharing her surprise, she told herself.

"From before our second mission with the Carbon Man," she said, touching her words with curiosity, showing her confusion over why he would be asking.

Ken had a faraway look in his eyes, a smile almost touching his lips. He matched his gaze with hers, and not quite conveying whatever had been on his mind, he said, "see? So busy, apprentice."

She returned the smile with a hesitant, hopeful shyness.

"Keep me updated," he said, hands a bit firmer before Ken pulled away. "I can't let Sai wait too long."

Sakura straightened her shoulders, but she didn't completely halt her leaning from trailing after the hold he had on her.

He noticed that, too.

-o-

Sakura was not restless.

She knew her body wasn't tired.

It wasn't boredom, but maybe it was frustration.

She missed the colder nights as winter had begun to turn in. Sakura sat atop her bed and pressed her forehead to a window pane that wasn't cool enough to the touch.

The smooth but resistant, empty and lukewarm touch of glass.

Her bedding was too scratchy under her and she remembered the whispers of softer sheets. She remembered what it had been like to share the space with someone warm and attentive and loud and  _there_  in all her senses. Hands larger than her own and gentle, firm, tentative and sure. The smell of cedar in the fireplace. Maybe if she said his name, as she had said it then... She remembered a heartbeat and a rhythm, careful and thoughtful, a flushing of heat, and then – and her hands were really only an imitation but if – if she could put herself back in a moment –

Sakura tasted ash and carbon and iron. It was in her mouth and when she breathed, it smothered her lungs in hot waves and her head was drowned in smoke.

Her silent room rang in a yell of agony and terror and she remembered the blaze, the frantic thought of –  _this is the end_ –

She jerked fully from her bed and landed on her floor, shattering the memories flooding her. Her room was empty and quiet except for her labored breathing. Nothing stirred except for her.

Sakura finally felt the cold and she didn't move for a long while.

-o-

Kakashi had his own missions while he acted as Sakura's handler; he was too skilled to leave in one corner. The village might have been recovering from an invasion, struggling to maintain fragile alliances, going through a transition of power and different styles of leadership, but it was still very much a ninja operation. There were still clients who had money and unsavory needs, and Kakashi was still the highly trained jounin for those jobs.

Well, he was one of a handful. He wasn't  _that_  special when it came to assassinations. It really depended on the target, the timeframe, the place and preferred methodology... Maybe they just assigned him because he had nothing more productive to do? Asuma and Kurenai had their teams, Anko had her proctor position in the exams, even Genma had settled back into a cell with Shizune.

And so, if they were all equally capable, then perhaps Kakashi were just slightly more expendable to his village than others?

In a way, Sakura was in a similar position and it was the first time he had ever considered very consciously the two of them to be alike. Because she  _was_  an investment and a talented one, as well, and she was also a piece set up for a weighted sacrifice if need be.

It was strange – how their value played out to the village functions.

"I can't meet you here any more," Sakura said in greeting. They hadn't seen each other in months and she barely looked up at him as she entered their meeting room in the One Eleventh Street Clinic. In her hands was a scroll that she opened up into a pile of scrolls. "Ken has been here to talk with me and there wasn't any breach but for my own comfort I want us to relocate. I have a few suggestions, but I'm sure you'll have backups that are already cleared."

She slid around him to deposit her pile onto his normal perch, the table, and started sorting the material.

"I'm grand, thank you," he drawled, his tone a mixture of dry amusement and a very thin hint of worry. "Shoulder is doing much better. Had a cavity taken care of. Pack was run with fleas about a week back – did not make friends with the bath house after that evening of cleansing."

Sakura took a moment to react and looked up at him with a sad sort of bewilderment. Belatedly, "hi."

More belatedly, and standing back at attention, "sir."

"No, no. You got it right before, we aren't really in a place for that sort of formality any more, are we?" But as soon as he made the joke, Kakashi felt the distance that had been between them very solidly in the room. An invisible repulsion between magnets attached to stubborn hands pushing for resolution. He hedged awkwardly, both in his leaning seat at the table and in his approach to his subordinate.

There had been a time when he might have said that and it might have been close to true.

Sakura turned from him, hands slowly resuming a calmer sorting of her things. She said, also slow and a bit quiet, "you once told me I didn't take my kunoichi status seriously."

"Did I? I don't remember being that blunt..."

"You insinuated then," she said, not very heatedly but with seriousness. Eyes back on his, "but now... I wonder, which way do you want it... Which way should I be?"

Too reserved, almost, and honest.

Kakashi didn't know how to answer and so he said nothing.

Which was alright, as Sakura had more to say. Her hands stilled again and her breath left her a little more roughly. "I've been thinking...about how I am. How...I  _am..._ "

But that was as far as she could articulate her thoughts and so she stopped.

Kakashi didn't know what to say, but he understood the feeling. He had felt that turmoil years ago, hadn't he?

He shifted from his leaning on the table to take a seat instead. Following her lead in the sorting, he took over the busy work for her. Circling back to her question, he told her, "you can always be yourself with me, Sakura. That's all you have to do."

That was a lie, he thought, and he knew she knew as much because there was more she had to do. There would always be more.

She faked being convinced and being reassured and he saw it in the smile she gave him. It could have been a mirror – he had given her that same expression years ago and now it resided with her as well.

He realized that bit of comfort was something he wouldn't ever be able to offer her again.

An end to bullshit, some part of him decided.

"Right," Sakura said. And then, motioning to her records, "I have some thoughts on our recent pursuit of a money trail leading to Akatsuki. Have you been briefed on that mission...?"

.

.

.

-o-

 


	17. The Hiss .iii

_placed in a set, set in place, set up act up and get up and run_

-o-

Had Sakura known about Tsunade when she was younger, had she understood the story of the greatest ninja of their village, then she would have emulated the woman from the very beginning.

Or, at least, once she had learned enough of Ino's natural confidence and assured attitude. The Sakura from before that point – the shy and insecure child of inconsequential meaning –  _that_  Sakura might not have thought herself even worthy of pretending to be like Tsunade. But after copying Ino and finding some tangential footing of her own, then she would have definitely dedicated herself to Tsunade's legacy.

The image of the Fifth Hokage was everything a child could dream to be like: strong, intelligent, fearless, powerful, and influential.

The perfect image to imitate.

It had taken her some time, but eventually Sakura had gotten to that point – basking in the light of someone else and hoping to soak in their qualities in order to assemble something of worth for herself.

That was Sakura's manual for operation; to copy and paste onto herself the behaviors of others. It was really no wonder she had been scouted by Ken, and before that by Kakashi and his superiors. She was a covert operative in her most basic state.

She was thinking about this as she and Sai finished stretching after a morning spar. They sat on the grass of the training grounds together, damp and cool in the early spring dawn, and he had just asked her about Tsunade's technique.

"Does the Hokage help you with that?" Sai pointed to his own forehead in reference to the Byakugou seal.

The question really came from Ken, Sakura knew, because Sai's tone had shifted in a tell of rehearsal and obligation. After months of interacting together, all of his habits had become obvious to her; when he was relaying something on the sly from his teacher, he licked his lips right before a little inhalation and a rise in pitch for his first word.

Sakura wondered his intention behind the inquiry, answered as naturally and diplomatically as she could. "We review my progress weekly. More or less."

"Can you really sprout your limbs right back when it's activated?" He asked, this time from his own curiosity. His tone was bleak, as normal, but the words inspired a ridiculous picture in her head.

Sakura laughed. Teasing him, she hummed to herself, "is 'sprout' really the right word?"

"I heard she can even survive being burned alive..."

A different picture appeared in her head and Sakura's stomach dropped.  _Burned alive._  She kept her expression light and unaffected, allowed for some mirthful incredulousness. "I hope she hasn't had to learn that feat first hand."

She was for Sai: eager, determined, friendly.

Those other memories didn't affect her – Sai would see that.

But he seemed to have made the comparison obtusely and without any connection to their last mission. Sai made a nominally sympathetic noise. "Huh. That would be unpleasant. But the regenerated limbs are a yes?"

Sakura didn't have enough chakra stored to risk activating the seal. If she had to heal an injury, if the seal attempted it, and she didn't have enough energy to manage – it would be a terminal move.

"I'll let you know," she said.

Another little breath in from Sai. "What does she think of your new pursuits? Outside of healing."

"Oh, I don't think she knows about my new hobby training chipmunks to tumble..."

Sai narrowed his eyes after a long moment. "You make bad jokes."

Her smile perked and she wiggled her eyebrows. "I never!"

She sobered a little, noticing Sai's shoulders dip very slightly.

His eyes found something in the grass and a shallow line formed between his brows. "You're her apprentice. You can't be in our cell – not really."

He seemed to be saying as much to himself.

"Have you heard something?" Sakura asked, coloring with some of his apprehension. She liked being in his cell. She  _had_  to be in it, didn't she?

"You're her apprentice," repeated, "she'll want you around more," he said. Then Sai shook his head. "I haven't heard anything. I was just...thinking."

She dulled some of the humor in her expression. "You going to miss me if I leave or something?"

Sai paused again before he answered her. He didn't have much intonation and his body stayed still. Like a hesitant confession, "I don't want to remember what it is like to miss someone."

"I am the apprentice to the Fifth," Sakura stated. She didn't smile. Not immediately. She didn't want to – and then she did. A smile and she chose her words carefully. "But I'm not going anywhere."

-o-

Sakura ate her meals in the hospital canteen. She slept in the hospital mess. It wasn't what others wanted for her and she was certain the third night when Ken found her alone in a call room. The lights were dimmed, a unit on the wall hummed out cool air and white noise, she just wanted an hour of rest to 'herself' while not really being  _by herself_.

She hadn't spoken a word beyond what she needed to for work and yet her isolation had thinned too much for someone's liking.

Ken played sympathetic as he interrupted her changing.

Finishing pulling her vest from her arms, she regarded him silently and with obvious uncertainty as he shut the door behind him and leaned there. He had come to confront her actions, but only indirectly. The objective was more for maintaining control. Which route would he take?

"Taichou," she said, voice higher with nerves and rough with disuse, "what are you doing here?"

Ken removed his mask. His eyebrows favored a sad sort of upturn and his eyes always looked on the edge of sleep; it made for a sweet, disarming countenance of concern. When he spoke, his voice was low and would have been smooth like stones wearing in a riverbed had she been able to touch it. "We've been assigned another mission."

"I didn't receive a briefing summons – ?"

"It's not out yet. Mission's going through clearance. We'll set off in a few days."

Because he knew it would be cleared. He was a no one, but there was a someone. It had been the same with the Carbon Man mission – Ken had known more about it beforehand than was typically allowed in the chain of command.

Sakura gripped her vest tight in her hands and lifted it over her chest, her mimicking arms like a shield there. More like bait. She nodded curtly and the movement was stiff. "Alright."

"It's unlike you, not going back to your house," Ken pointed out. And with the mission as his excuse, "that was the first place I checked. Your mail needs to be collected."

"Don't want those take out menus to go unread," she joked, but the attempt was weak.

Neither spoke for a moment and the room was a stretch of honey, long and gratuitous and bittersweet.

"You can come to me," he said, "if you...if you're..."

"Lonely?" Sakura suggested, letting some of her real feelings accentuate the word.

Lies were all the better when framed with honesty.

"I thought it might be a bit of an adjustment after everything," he admitted. "You were very good in your role. I wasn't sure if it would be so easy to slip out of now that you're back."

"And you think that's why I'm substituting busy spaces for intimacy?"

Ken's smile was one-sided and soft, his lips a gentle and patient curl under an endearingly dimpled cheek. Nothing about him hinted of an edge and all he conveyed was open reassurance; he had his arms lowered, his torso open to her, his stance relaxed, mask removed.

He was for Sakura: intuitive, supportive, available.

Sai had said of his teacher, months and months ago, " _he's not very good with people._ "

And that was because in his role as Sai's sensei, Ken didn't have to be 'good with people.' Ken had to be different for the different people around him.

Sakura was the same; she was different people for the different situations in which she found herself.

She was: distressed, stubborn, vulnerable.

"I'm not," Sakura started, a serendipitous crack in the syllables, "readjusting.  _Yet._ But I'm good for the next mission, I  _am._ "

"You never have to keep that from me." Ken moved from the doorway, steps purposeful and spelled out clearly for her if she wished to retreat. She didn't. "You are allowed to talk about a struggle you have, apprentice. That is how we keep our ranks functioning – by addressing their needs, whatever they are."

Wonderful assurances. A part of her really admired the perspective. A part of her responded to the lack of accusations of weakness. A part of her  _yearned_  for that acceptance.

Lies were all the better when framed with honesty.

She felt heat in her eyes and her vision quivered. "I can taste the smoke from the fire in my mouth. It's different from a wood fire. The chemicals from the construction materials and the fabrics in the home...and then, under that, his hair. ...I remember what his hair smelled like. I remember the smell of it and how it felt in my hands before... I can see it – his hair was fuel around his shoulders..."

Shoma had yelled, pleaded, wept, and cursed. And then the names he listed in his last moments...

Reina had wanted him to die faster, Sakura remembered.

Her clone had wanted mercy for him with a quick end but it hadn't gone like that.

Sakura breathed in sharply, shutting down the lapse to another place. She wiped at her eyes with hasty, admonishing movements, but the wind in her chest was tumultuous and wanted the reprieve of cries.

Ken reached for her, calmed her reluctance with steady insistence until she was firm against his body. He had come to comfort her before anyone else could step into the vacancy.  _He_  was there.

She was: distressed; stubborn; vulnerable; and more perceptive and calculating than Ken ever needed to know.

-o-

Returning to the disputed territory between Wind and Grass countries was a risky move, but one that her cell could now make with more transparency.

Sakura's new mission was a joint task between Wind and Fire, the objective being intelligence gathering on the Otogakure nin who had carried out the raid. Cataloguing damage, identifying tactics and jutsu used, estimating the number of forces, establishing a timeline, recording casualties and determining those who were taken back to Sound. It was also a reinforcement for the reestablished relationship between the two villages.

As easily as Naruto had forgiven Suna – others weren't quite so keen, even if it were simply a condition of the lifestyle. Politics amongst competitive professional backstabbers was a trick to manage.

The two squads weren't really meant to deduce what the reason for the raid had been – but there was unofficial speculating anyway.

The Suna squad captain, Kogamo, had the thought that Orochimaru needed to replenish his stock after the failed invasion. She made more than a few comments of how much the Sound nin had relied on Suna to provide the bulk of manpower. Orochimaru's ranks were insufficiently trained, malnourished, and didn't appear to share a cohesive cultural background – which didn't help the already skimpy leadership.

"His men are united by one common thread – reward. Or at least the promise of it," Kogamo said with some authority as the two squads tentatively shared a meal together. "They barely have even a common tongue between them."

Sakura didn't comment; it would have been out of turn for her to speak up. She listened and took mental notes and Ken, acting Leaf Squad Captain and second-in-command of the joint force, was similarly pensive. He knew better than to agitate any lingering feelings between the two parties, and instead nodded along with whatever Kogamo had to share.

"He likes to pick them up young, though, doesn't he?" She asked, finally demanding some sort of response from Ken.

"Easier minds for him to manipulate," Ken agreed with a shrug. "Nothing new to that tactic... But with his turnover rate, you could say the youthful inexperience of his troops is detrimental to his strength and potency more than anything."

He might have added,  _"and that's probably why he ultimately made for a weak ally in the failed invasion on Konoha."_

"So will the Leaf ever clean up their mess, then?" Kogamo goaded, sitting back in her seat in a comfortable lounge. She spun the liquid in her cup idly, watching Ken with an oddly smug and dark contemplation from behind her porcelain mask. "Letting your missing nin grow like an infestation..."

Sakura glanced between the two, as did the Suna nin around her.

"Can't say I'd be the one to make that decision," Ken said easily, calmly taking a swig from his own drink. His eyes met Sakura's, yellow and quick in the firelight.

Bored by the diplomatic non-answer, Kogamo soured and turned her attention elsewhere.

The conversation around her changed but Sakura stayed caught on the question,  _was_  Konoha ever going to address Orochimaru?

.

.

.

-o-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really know the audience for this story. I hope people are enjoying the heavy character-focus and the very, very slowly building plot. The story is dark and more (my attempt at pseudo-) political intrigue than non-stop, straight up shonen action....
> 
> I guess - if any of you can think of anyone who is interested in this type of story set in the Naruto-verse, please let them know! Especially if they happen to be Sakura and Kakashi fans :)
> 
> That would be really great! Thanks!


	18. The Hiss .iv

_mud in the cracks silver tongue smothering effect_

-o-

The Sound nin had taken the horses and a select few other animals from the estate during their raid, and left anything else that managed to survive the fire behind to die from injury, toxicity, or starvation.

Sakura looked over the cages where Shoma had kept his rabbits and tried not to spot any of the little ones that would have perished.

"How many did you flag?" A Suna kunoichi, Dashi, asked, tallying up the total number of body parts in the current scope of their investigation.

"Nine. Fully intact," Sakura answered while staring at the cages. Nine members of the staff. She knew each one by name on sight, knew their stats and personal histories. To Dashi, "I have already ascertained each cause of death. Here."

She tossed the scroll and the other girl caught it with deft fingers.

"Awesome," the kunoichi chirped – only because to her this was a simple task she wanted to finish as quickly as possible. "We've finished with the main house – four total. Way too brutal, I swear. Mayu says it was –"

Sakura knew how the deaths had gone for those inside the estate. She cut off the description, "I'm checking the greenhouses."

"We've already met the number in the latest household records..."

"Doesn't mean that's all the bodies on the property," Sakura stated as she walked away, as if she were being very thorough.

But she knew they wouldn't be recovering another body.

-o-

Intelligence gathered and shared between Suna and Konoha led to one simple action, proposed by Wind, in order to abate some of the turbulence in the contested territory: destroy the mill.

More astutely than that – take away the main incentive for people to live in the territory. No resources, no employment, no money, no reason to live there, no more raids from Otogakure. That was Sakura's quick reasoning behind the additional, belated mission objective. The news came by a Suna messenger hawk, signed off by both the Suna council and the Hokage, and only the Leaf nin appeared to be caught off-guard by the news.

Sakura's reasoning was correct.

"If we continue to let the population grow here, then it will remain a 'fishing hole' for Orochimaru to revisit," said the Suna squad leader and task force Commanding Officer, Kogamo. She was content to carry out the order. To her, the strategy was logical, easy to accomplish, and effective. "We need to snuff out his supply and interest in this area."

"The mill is still occupied," Ken said, and it was clear to Sakura that he wasn't as personally satisfied with the objective, but complicit nonetheless. The task force had avoided the skeleton crew left inside the mill, who from a distance appeared to be doing nothing more than maintenance while processes were temporarily halted. "We'll have to evac any potential casualties."

They were finished with the rest of their duty, which had been an endeavor in retracing steps and careful observation. While Ken, Sai, and Tatsu took other records and accounts, Sakura had recovered and studied corpses, tracking victims and methods of expiration. She recognized damage from vibration-based jutsu like the ones the Sound Nin trio had used in the Chuunin Exams, and it was further proof of those responsible for the raid.

No evidence had been found of the kunoichi Sakura had fought in the forest on the night of the raid. The area had been scorched with an innominate, unidentifiable fire-based ninjutsu.

Ken considered the fact of moving on the Carbon Man's operation, and followed his statement with a wary question. "...Are we targeting any person in relation to the mill?"

The Carbon Man, or rather his operation, had been a potential door to Akatsuki and it was likely that some of those in the Konoha village leadership didn't want that avenue closed – like the 'Someone' to whom Ken reported, Sakura thought.  _Ken was a no one but there was a someone..._

Kogamo unsealed a folder from the recent mission scroll and flipped it open. Her eyes scanned the information and she relayed in the affirmative, "along with specific physical targets within the mill structure, we have a Termination List."

As he had no basis to ask for justification when the order came directly from the Fifth, Ken had nothing else contrary to say.

For an undisclosed reason, the Leaf's pursuit of Akatsuki, or at least one facet of it, was not going to be a combined effort with Suna. At the moment, the only overlapping concern was to conclusively identify Otogakure's involvement in the territory and to prevent further interest from Orochimaru.

At the conclusion of Kogamo's briefing, Sakura went through a checklist of preparation and supplies. She secured her arm and shin guards, disguised her scent again, replenished wire and weapons, made sure the cloth she had wrapped over her hair like a hood was tightly in place.

"Saya," Ken said, using Sakura's codename as he approached her with written directives, "your coordinates. 'M-n-D.'"

'Memorize and Destroy' the instructions before departure.

"You'll be assessing and strapping a quadrant with Hora." He jerked his chin at the Suna nin attached to the name. "You both need to report separately for clearance and for detonation. We have terminal dispersal and base return upon Kogamo's verification. Understood?"

In her peripheral, she saw Ken flash a hand signal. It meant, essentially, 'await further information.'

"Yes, sir," Sakura said, dipping her chin and returning an affirmative signal of her own.

Officially: they would empty the mill complex, place explosive tags, clear for detonation, remotely activate the tags, Kogamo would declare a complete destruction, and then they would all scatter before her cell regrouped for their trip back to the village.

Ken sent her secondary instructions only once they had fragmented into teams of two, and she and Hora were deep inside the interior of the mill where they were to post explosive tags. She didn't notice the little ink mouse for what it was until it had carefully made its way to her boot. Up her leg and torso and to the exposed skin on her upper arm. Sakura used a medical-ninjutsu to open her vision in the dimly lit space in order to read the brief splash of ink scrawling out a message as the mouse repurposed itself.

From the scrambled text, she read: In quadrant. Locate, recover bounties.

Sakura felt a coolness hit her skin, perspiration there anxiously relinquishing warmth like frantic sailors tossing pails of water from a sinking boat.

Ken's instructions were a joke, was her first rational thought as she wiped the ink ninjutsu from her skin.

Did he expect her to casually duck out for a cigarette? Slink around and by 'pure coincidence' stumble across a hidden bunker? Perhaps proclaim, unconvincingly to her Suna partner, ' _oops, did I just conveniently discover this secret room_   _acting illicit morgue, totally on accident?'_

Sakura halted her internal grouching and pulled a thoughtful frown to herself. The bodies  _would_  need to be preserved through cool temperatures, and the complex being a civilian operation  _would_  likely rely on power-draining refrigeration units. ...Which meant a noisy generator designated to one particular area – or maybe a damning line of cables running somewhere otherwise inexplicable. It was in her favor that due to the architectural nature of the building, its utilitarian purpose and design, the electrical work was visible.

She had only two minor,  _minor_  factors working against her: one, lack of time; and two, her allied company who  _probably shouldn't_  find out about her ulterior goal.

At the moment, inside the vast room filled with all the machinery and components of cooling furnaces, tracks, cars, hammers, and hydraulic presses, Sakura was meant to be scouting structural supports for explosive tag placements. Beyond that, any valuable constructs of steel manufacturing and plating were supposed to be tagged as well.

Hora was busy in the upper stories of the building, flitting about with unhurried ease as she did the task in her specified area. There was a lot of ground to cover between the eight of them, and they weren't in a dire rush, so Sakura calmed her nerves and told herself to work logically.

A clone to act as her eyes in spotting potentially leading cables was her first step. It was excusable for also performing the chore of discerning weak structural points.

Her second step required a little more subtlety. She wanted to detect a generator – either by listening for the noise of its engine by altering her hearing and relying on sound traveling through air, or she could figure a way to sense vibrations through the ground. A glass to the floor every couple of meters might have been a little conspicuous, so Sakura went with a network of water that she could manipulate and monitor while moving.

Not an impossible accomplishment – just something a bit unfamiliar.

She had been working with water ninjutsu under Ken's instruction, but only in so much as summoning water around her into a concentrated body. It was a secondary feature of the other chakra control training she had been pursuing – which had to do with separation more than concentration.

At the moment she needed to move water out from her into what would almost look like nerve endings or a root system. Maybe like a web – and like a spider, she would feel out any vibrations.

The work was more demanding of her attention than Sakura realized, and she started at the sound of the Suna kunoichi's voice coming across the com in her ear.

"So who is it, then?" Hora asked, breaking the silence with a vague and somewhat playful question.

Sakura clocked the other kunoichi fifteen meters overhead and some sixty more down the row of presses. Hora was looking over some of the machinery from an overhead walkway with a lazy sort of curiosity and didn't noticeably acknowledge she was addressing Sakura at all.

"What?" Sakura asked smartly, trying to covertly keep up her scouting.

"The hoods you're all wearing – not exactly standard uniform for Konoha special ops. So who is it in your little cell that has the damning physical attribute? One of you has gotta be someone important, right? I hear redheads in Konoha have some sort of legacy... And there's that White Fang around, too..."

A nervous tickle in the back of her throat made Sakura laugh, tight and awkward. "Yeah – no. Nothing like that, promise."

" _Uh-huh_. Wow _,_  you're a really convincing one." Hora was making small talk to pass the time and her inquiries were pretty mild attempts to smoke out information.

But it was strange, Sakura reflected, how the conversation flowed while the two weren't in close proximity. It felt more relaxed without the constant need to read body language and decipher the truth hidden under layers of obscurity.

And then Sakura spoiled the friendly atmosphere by suspecting the seemingly tame talk to be a rouse of some sort. Her muscles tensed with the worry she might be fooled into revealing something important, and she told herself, 'no relaxation – no 'small talk' and no carefree humor.' She was on a mission and she had multiple objectives to meet.

"I heard there's a dog clan in your village," crackled across the com after a pause. "Any chance one of you is hiding a fur coat under all that fabric? Or – is it bugs? I've heard about the bugs, too."

Acting along, Sakura snorted. "Maybe it's nothing under our hoods? One of us is actually just a hollow man."

"Hmm...not quite as exciting as bugs, I don't think."

"If it makes you happy, sure, I'm hiding a dozen eyes and a pair of pincers under my mask and hood."

"Aha, so that's how it is for that clan..." Hora hummed.

There was other humming, too, that Sakura felt more than heard. She lifted on her heels, suddenly excited, but kept her voice tempered. "We have our stories, too, about your Suna kin."

"Do share."

Sakura moved closer to the source of the vibrations. It was the specific sort of steady puttering of a generator, like one she had heard before at the hospital after the Invasion.

To the com, she said, "a favorite is the clan with the bloated double chin – they store some type of biofluid there, breathe in the sand around them, and then spit out a sticky, cementing mess that encapsulates and suffocates the target."

She followed her water network to an interior wall, separating a temporary holding space for misshapen plates from the rest of the floorspace. Walking the perimeter of the boxed in area, she grinned, noticing a possible hollow space walled off around a column running from the floor to ceiling at the end of the room.

"Pretty cute image, definitely."

"All the Konoha kids look at anyone with a softer chin with a lot of suspicion and worry."

Hora laughed in response, reserved but delighted. "Any other good ones?"

Sakura examined the masonry construction of the wall, and being that she was out of sight, placed her ear to its surface to feel again for the generator.

"There's rumor of a scroll that summons a hypnotic, man-eating, flowering cactus."

The lower she crouched down, the more distinct it became. Instinct told her there was a disguised door to a staircase within the wall and, below that, a subterranean room where she would find the holding unit for the Carbon Man's bounties. A strategic location; the bodies could be shipped back to the furnace with the misshapen steel and disposed of without any trouble.

"Oh, well that one is true," Hora assured her. "I've seen that cactus. 'Course, I was spared, being a young lady and all."

Not seeing any breaks in the wall, Sakura ran her fingers over the stones to find any seams. Thought better of it, and gathered the water back into the palm of her hand, only to send it out like a glass sheet against the wall. She pressed inward, let the chakra she pulsed into the water push into any cracks – until – the outline.

Sakura let out a quick, ' _ha!_ '

"Remember another story?" Asked from the com misinterpreting the small exclamation.

She smiled and used chakra-enhanced taps from her fingertips to chip away holds into the edge of the door.

"Yeah," she said, careful to cover any tell of exertion as she pulled and then pushed the hidden door until caught on a track to slide open. Her heart jumped, thrill and accomplishment pulsing in her. Stale, cool air hit her face. "I remember hearing about the forbidden technique that's sup–"

The word fell from her unfinished.

A string snapped and dozens of somethings, thin and metallic,  _thwipped_  through the air. Sakura barely flinched as four needles sank into her chest and others grazed her sides and arms. A clattering as a countless number of more needles that had bounced off her armor hit the floor. Needles.  _Weapons_.

The air in her lungs left her and her body curled inward slightly, almost quietly puzzled by its departure.

"What's that?"

The Suna kunoichi's question came to Sakura from behind cotton. Her mind and everything else around her was oddly muted. Gargled, little soundless grimaces left her and her next inhalation came in a slow, choppy way.

Sakura lifted a hand to touch one of the needles buried into her.

"I've...I just set off...a trap..." she said, not too sure of how clearly she had spoken, or if she'd said anything aloud at all. She wondered if she had sounded as nonchalant as she had wanted.

No problem. She was a medic-nin. Healing was her  _thing_. Sakura pulled the needles out of her chest – long needles – a  _lot_  of needle – and noted the way her chest warmed and then cooled with the blossoming of blood out from her skin and into her shirt. Different rates of bleeding in the wounds – different damage – that one felt like an arterial bleed –

Then she heard the hiss of gas leaving a compressed container and her face paled with dread.

"Saya?" Hora was both in the com at Sakura's ear and somewhere close to her, too.

"Get back!" Sakura said, shouting unintentionally. But she was pretty sure the floor was rhythmically threatening to come up right next to her and that wasn't very good. Her body was going numb. "There's gas – it could be poisonous! Get out of the building –"

Hora heard the word poison and, apparently not very excited by the prospect, disappeared from the room.

Poisonous gas and she suspected, poison on the needles as well.

Unhelpfully, her pulse climbed.

Sakura moved as an appropriate course of action raced and reconfigured and adapted in her mind. Starting with:  _don't inhale._

The next step was born from many recent repetitions of the same concept – all the time spent beneath the training complex, sending chakra into a pool of water and attempting to shake the liquid into vapor with her energy. Sakura had mastered the technique within a few hours.

She took the water she had been using the locate the generator and then the hidden door, gathered neatly in a puddle, and excited its state to a fine mist that exploded out around her. It was a fast reaction and the water overtook the gas; Sakura recollected the water, now infused with the poison, and let the mixture fall to the ground.

Third step came immediately, and her hands had just dropped the poisoned water when she took a breath and started medical-ninjutsu. She closed the most critical damage in her torso, winced as her fingers started to feel leadened and resistant as the numbness continued to spread, and then focused on trying to extract the poison from her blood system. Filter it out like a net could catch leaves. Very, very tiny leafy particles. Her arms started to tremble and Sakura found her legs were bending in a way she didn't really want them to...

She wasn't going to be able to do it, she realized, and she dropped to the stone floor with little grace.

One other option remained, and although she thought it was a stretch – Sakura  _did_  have an antidote on her.

After she had collected the sample from the mercenary that had attacked Sai months ago, on their first mission to the contested territories, Sakura had deconstructed the formula and made an antidote out of curiosity. For the challenge. Perhaps for some form of preparation.

She jerked her increasingly uncooperative arms around until she had her pouch open and the injector in her hands. Her skin was slick and white and she couldn't keep her vision focused. She thought it was pressed against her thigh – hoped as much – and released the antidote.

Seconds ticked by. Sakura was prone on her back, blankly watching the far away ceiling as her ears were made drums by her heartbeat.  _One second. ...A second. ...A second._  She listened to her lulling pulse.

And then she felt a twitch in her hand. Pins and needles in her foot as she pulled it out from under where her upper body had collapsed over it and cut off blood supply.

Sakura laughed, giddy with relief, buoyantly triumphant and a bit smug.

She sobered and let the smile on her face relax.

Her happy revelation that the antidote gamble had worked couldn't last. The logical part of her brain, abstaining from the celebrating, rang a warning. Hora knew there was a trap that Sakura had set off – but traps usually meant there was something worth protecting. There was no time for taking a moment, she had to set the proper scene before anyone found her; more specifically, before the Suna squad returned.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, the eminent, yet loosely defined countdown resumed ticking as she got back to her feet.

_'Recover bounties.'_

There was no time to waste even the tiniest movement and she had another gamble to pull off.

Kogamo and Suna would learn about the suspicious hidden room, guarded with traps, but they didn't need to know about the poison, the bodies inside, or that Sakura had emptied the containers and wiped any trace of having every stepped inside herself.

Medic-nin were good for eliminating trace evidence like that, and Sakura was pretty capable to limiting chakra residue from jutsu with her near perfect control.

And they didn't need to know the extent of her talent when they found her.

Sakura was pitifully bloodied and slowly healing a puncture wound in her ribcage when Hora and Sai returned for her and gave the area an all clear.

Kogamo eyed Sakura – the helpless, recovering pin cushion on the ground – and the exposed staircase. Her questions were sharp, pointed, laced with suspicion, but she never considered that four bodies in preservation seals left with Sakura as she hobbled out of the mill.

From a distance, she watched the expansive structure of the Carbon Man's mill and all his operations implode and rise in a blackened, grey cloud. Termination, Sakura thought, and allowed some of the triumph still lingering in her middle swell in reprise.

Finally, a mission success.

.

.

.

-o-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who is here for kunoichi!Sakura? I am. I am here for that. ;) Please comment!


	19. The Hiss .v

_subtle line, trail of glass long passed_

-o-

His old uniform smelled like the storage space in the bottom of his apartment building and Kakashi had spent a good amount of time wearing it in with his pack out in one of the forested training grounds – gave it that nice 'lived in' aroma suitable of an active duty special ops member, and laundered it once to keep up some semblance of hygiene.

Not that he expected his presence as an ANBU guard in the Office of the Hokage –orchestrated very craftily in the records by Shizune– to be anything suspicious.

Well, it might have been suspicious if he hadn't changed the style of his mask and the look of his hair. People  _did_  tend to remember the hair of the White Fang, although he didn't find it nearly so worthy of distinction. But for a whelp like 'Ken,' Kakashi figured some sable henna and a shorter cut would be enough to dissuade any wandering interests to the fixed figures in the shadowed corners of the room.

 _Ken_. Full name and date of birth redacted. According to his file, he had been a squad leader for eighteen months, a single student teacher for five years, and very quietly active duty in the ranks of ANBU since the age of nine. There was nothing impressive in his stats; he was the typical 'above average' talent of the special ops, having a well rounded background in each genjutsu, taijutsu, and ninjutsu. Further noted in the report: three nature affinities of water, earth, and fire; an expert with the tanto; fluent in two minority languages of the Five Shinobi Countries; and a graduate of the Strategic Operational and Tactical Information Operations course –or, as Kakashi knew it, classes on management for war fighting systems of support.

After his own jounin promotion, Kakashi had taken both the Joint Forces Close and Mid- Range Operations Component Commander and the Combined Forces Special Operations Component Commander courses. Earning his ranks in an era of war sort of encouraged that route. Ken had only seen the peripheral of the third war conflict at its end and his program completion had been a few years after the fact.

The man was... a nobody. More mission successes than failures, maybe, and a clean infraction record, but nothing  _outstanding._

But, because he was  _not_  outstanding, Ken had opportunity to scout and recruit for Root. That was where his real worth came through and something like that would not be marked in his file.

In person, Ken was not quite as unassuming as he was on paper. He was a little taller than most, solidly built with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, shorter torso and longer legs. Worker's hands, feet turned out at a slight angle, strong neck. Bony wrists and ankles made it conceivable he would be more slender if not for his training regime, but with the extra bulk he pulled off a convincing aura of tempered power.

Ken was very purposefully both approachable and promising of strength – carefully constructed Poster Boy looks for luring in vulnerable people. Everything from how he stood and walked, parted his damn hair, down to his subdued mannerisms and gestures, lent to the effect.

Definitely lacked Kakashi's favored lazy, disinterested slouch which some people mistook for timidity.

He spoke with calm ease – an unhurried pace and a reassuring tone. Even when referencing the failed objectives of his missions into the disputed territories, Ken had the ability to make the effort appear worthwhile in the conclusion of studying the structure and fallout of the raid in the area and their positive combined operations with Suna.

He could spin.

Tsunade was neutral and unperturbed during the debriefing. She twice nodded with approval. There was never an inclination she knew there was more to the operation than presented. She frowned once, a brief pinch in her brow, at the mention of Otogakure and how preliminary on-site analysis did not confirm their involvement in the raid.

Otherwise, it was all routine. No indication that the cell was associated with ANBU Root or any potentially subversive intentions.

Later, when Kakashi and Tsunade met privately to discuss the debriefing, she bared her impatience.

"I can't get a read on his direction," she groused into her ceramic cup, speaking indirectly about Danzo. They were in another part of the compound that made up the Hokage living quarters off to the side of the tower. A rooftop veranda this time, still enjoying the mildly warmer outdoors within the comfort of a kerosene heater. The perimeter of the rooftop was lined with tall Mokuton-seeded boxwood, impenetrable for eavesdropping and spying, but they spoke carefully. "Will he go for the blue binding or the red?"

Jiraiya and his upcoming publication was their cover topic. Blue for Oto, red for Akatsuki.

Kakashi shrugged. "That man has never fancied primary colors. It might be something in between."

Danzo could be pursuing leads in either direction, scavenging for something turbulent enough to tack onto the Fifth's regime and use as a point of leverage to have Tsunade removed from her position. Removed in one way or another…

Making a thoughtful noise, Tsunade said, "for the time being, it seems he's moved on from orange."

 _Orange._  Kakashi softened his bemused snort of laughter. Almost too obvious a stand-in for Naruto. "Ah, but it will remain a part of his collection."

What Kakashi really wanted to talk about was Sakura. Perhaps it was because the Fifth hadn't been meeting with her personally, but it was strange to Kakashi that there hadn't been as many discrepancies between her reports and Ken's. Everything lined up well; the targets, details of taken actions, the movement breakdown, the fallout.

If he traced the complete outline of the Carbon Man missions, what had they learned from Sakura that wasn't plain in Ken's reports? Why the overlap in the vague mission points?

Sakura had taken residence undercover in the contested territories, but there were no specifics over her role there. Something had disrupted their schedule in the mill demolition, but there was no specific breakdown offered. Not entirely unusual in ANBU reports, but there should not have been the lack of transparency from Sakura.

Or maybe Kakashi was impatient and the mission didn't have an ulterior motive to which Sakura would have been privy. She could be in the dark yet.

Except– as Sakura had told him before, she had secrets now too. Had she caught onto the play already and taken precautions? Or had she been compromised?

No. He was surely being impatient. He was overthinking. They had nothing to worry about.

Kakashi could press for answers when he saw her next.

-o-

Their detour had not been necessary to their mission nor their organization's goals, but Sasori had always been one to work when and how he pleased. His partner had loudly and repeatedly protested, and it was not until they were balanced on the rubble of the steel mill that Deidara began to appreciate the driving bit of curiosity for the trip.

The boy had also been annoyingly delighted about seeing the full body of Hiruko from under its shell, so he had been talkative and _perky_ since their arrival.

"You learned about all this from that little thing?" Deidara asked, speaking crudely with his usual ignorance of Sasori's art. His hand gestured vaguely to the little puppet spider. "Doesn't say much good about a village if a bunch of special ops miss a tech piece like that, yeah."

"Incorrect," Sasori snapped. "It speaks more of my own skills and ability."

"But what's left to speak of your humility?" Deidara smartly dodged the swing of Hiruko's tail.

Such lip from children these days.

"This a custom-built piece that operates in a pre-determined pattern along a web -very nearly as a real spider would. There is nothing  _to_  notice."

His partner sucked his teeth loudly. "That thing is worthless if it can't tell us who burned our 'employer.'"

But Sasori did not care about the demise of the Carbon Man or the persons behind the destruction of the mill.

He sealed the spider in a scroll and turned back to collecting the other items of interest buried in the debris. No body, as he would have expected, but he did pluck from the dust a long, bloodied needle.

Sasori cared more about discovering the identity of the person who had thwarted his poison ― _twice_.

He wanted to make certain a third escape would not happen.

.

.

.

-o-


	20. The Splitting .i

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.

.

_in rings, swinging, claw against the reins_

-o-

There was something miserable about wet feet stuffed into wet sandals, dirt and water and blood all trapped together by cloth wrappings.

Sai, sitting at the table in the kitchenette of her parents' home, lifted an eyebrow as Sakura unwrapped the dripping bandages from around one of her ankles and then the other. Like her, he was stripped down of most of his outer layers of clothing and trying to warm himself with hot tea and a towel around his shoulders.

The rain outside was relentless and their morning sparring session had been somewhat fun and exhilarating at first, but the march home much less so.

“How do you not have calluses?” Sai asked, his stare very pointedly set on the recently raw skin of her heels.

Sakura poked at the stinging flesh and made a face. “Because I'm a clod who continues to like the feel of soft skin when she rubs her feet together at night and so she repeatedly heals herself before any helpful calluses can ever form...”

With his cup raised to his lips, she couldn't quite spy his unimpressed frown, but his eyes were plain to read.

“How often do you heal yourself like this?”

“Too often,” she said.

“And yet you also wear fingerless gloves...”

She could wear more protective fabric, was his point.

“Never a thing as too much practice,” she sang back.

Sai took another sip of his tea and his confusion, very nearly bordering on skepticism, escaped him in a low hum. “Do you really care that much for 'practice' or do you just like the pain?”

It could have been a sardonic joke from another person.

“Oh come on...that would really be something if I were in this line of work and couldn't handle a little discomfort,” she said with a little humor, well inured to the healing routine and not keen to dissect possible psychological angles behind it.

Sai didn't say anything pressing and they lapsed into silence. Sakura listened to the rain on the windows and smiled ruefully at his calm presence in the house. With his company, she didn't feel nearly so loud as she once had in the empty rooms.

She missed her family with a painful hollowness in her chest. She missed the warmth of company.

But that was good for her mission, Sakura remembered, and she anchored the loneliness down deeper. Deep enough to not notice.

At the same moment, she and Sai both turned their heads to the entry way of the home. Someone had arrived on the stoop outside.

“Sensei is here,” Sai pointed out.

Before Ken could knock, Sakura called for him to come in.

“Sai,” Ken started, “go and prepare for immediate departure. Three weeks. Make any necessary arrangements.”

Sakura was confused at the order and started to get up and ask about the hurry, to help Sai get his things together, but Ken held a placating hand out and told her to wait. She nodded and sat back down, a small collapse seeing she served no purpose.

“I guess – goodbye?” She said as Sai dressed.

“You're coming too, Haruno,” Ken told her and her back renewed its normal straight line. To Sai, “we'll brief at the western gate in an hour.”

Ken was calm as Sai left, and he hushed Sakura back into her seat when she got up to put away dishes, to be busy with the appearance of more company. He looked her over and said she could use another cup of tea, then got the serving ready for her instead. The kettle on again and refreshed the leaves in the infuser, he retrieved a cup for himself from the cabinet. In his student's absence, he breathed more easily and his shoulders lost the tenseness that came with the cloak of authority he wore as a teacher. He lost his mask, too.

“How are you?” He asked, taking a chair for himself at the table once the tea was ready. He was next to her and took the chance to glance at her bare feet, healed and new and all the looks of inexperience again, and then found her eyes. “Strange habit, apprentice.”

“I've been told,” she said. “Is this new mission an emergency?”

Ken gave her a sad smile. “You know...that was a dodge if I've ever seen one and in our profession -"

"- You've seen a fair share of dodges," she filled in for him. Her brief smirk was contagious and his eyes were warm.

Warm in the way that made his comfort and ease in her home seem natural. Like her, he was a natural. Ken said, "last we talked, you were struggling a little.”

After she had looked to her home, to her work, to her absent friends and found no other source for solace, she had confessed to him her nightmares and he had listened.

“I don't remember it that way,” Sakura insisted. She brought her knees to her chin and wrapped her arms around them, took the pose for contemplating.

He read the action as a retreat, as vulnerability, and after watching her for a moment, tracking the way her hair ran rivulets of water down her legs, he leaned forward. Taking the towel still hung around her shoulders, Ken used it to wipe away the water, then patted at her wet locks, took his time brushing it over her head and hair.

“You saw what that raiding party did in the contested territories. You know their terror up close.”

The mission was about Orochimaru, then.

He continued, “we've asked a lot of you, Sakura...and this time...”

Ken trailed off and there was almost regret in his tone. Hesitancy or worry, maybe.

Sakura wondered how much of it was sincere. It felt real …But then, it was supposed to.

Ken had paused in his movements and so she placed her hands over his where they rested on either side of her neck. His skin was callused and the hairs over his fingers soft. The heat of him reminded her of her own creeping and enduring coldness.

“You don't have to ask anything of me...” She wanted him to know from her voice, from her expression, from the way her body stayed so comfortably under his, that she meant every word. “Tell me what I have to do.”

.

.

.

-o-

 

 


	21. The Splitting .ii

.

.

.

_bones grating thin strip back the skin_

 

-o-

Their cell was well outside friendly territory

As an academy student, Sakura had never appreciated how often missions would take her to places Konoha nin were very clearly Not Supposed To Be. She had never appreciated how often her missions would not be about battles or skirmishes, quick jabs and powerful explosions. How long she would be inactive when out in the field, waiting for action.

She had never considered, in her profession, how much and how often she would have to lose in order to progress.

It was dusk and she was finishing helping Sai with his new cover. It was important that they all matched a certain look for their mission infiltrating their new targeted territory, this time in leftover clan lands north of Grass country borders, and it was a lengthy process getting the details just right. They observed first, they stalked and they stole.

The first step had been a week long cleansing ritual, involving specific oils and tinctures, steaming and purges. Jutsu had helped mimic the appearance of a lifetime of such habits. They had hidden scars and trimmed down their physiques, coached one another in shedding inappropriate body language and presenting more authentic habits to their covers.

Sai had cut off Sakura's hair, shaved most of her head and darkened her eyebrows with semi-permanent dye. She was returning the favor, taking care to keep his scalp blemish free and healthy, as hers now was.

They spoke to each other in an increasingly familiar accent. They sparred in an increasingly familiar style.

“I can feel too much air now,” Sai said to Sakura, words affected in an increasingly less strange manner, remarking on the loss of his hair. Instinctively, his hand went up to rub at the bared skin.

Sakura did the same to her own head with his reminder, her fingers too rough and traveling too quickly without the usual resistance. He was right. It was like she was extra sensitive to any slight change in the breeze. The sun felt hotter than it used to. There was nothing to brush from her face and tuck behind her ear, though the want somehow still existed like an itch in her hand. She felt out of order and exposed.

But it was getting better. This wasn't her first cover.

“Does this mean you're not going to stick with this new look after our mission conclusion?” She teased.

“Definitely not. I hope none of us do. Look at sensei. His eyebrows are offensively out of proportion like that.”

Sakura fought a smile from her lips. Parroting quietly to herself with humor, “' _offensively._ '”

There was more to be done than hair. Piercings and inkings and other modifications. By the end of the transformation, she didn't recognise herself. She was once again someone else.

Or maybe it was more like –

As she was thoughtfully and, she thought, subtly glancing at Ken, when he caught her eyes.

– this was who she always had been.

-o-

Orders for the mission intended that the Otogakure raiding party find their cell, under the assumption of their covers, and to make contact. The goal was to learn about Orochimaru's intentions, about his forces, their tactics. More intelligence gathering after the fall out of the Carbon Man mission. All the information gathered would then be passed on and examined by others, and the board espying the political and military spectrum of the shinobi nations as understood by Konohagakure would be appropriately adjusted or redefined.

As with most missions, there were risks. Hoping for contact with an enemy upped those risks.

Weeks had gone by when Sakura and her cell finally caught the raiding party's attention. Cautious surveillance and preliminary scouting was then succeeded finally by an encompassing attack.

Her cell was using the cover of an unaffiliated shinobi clan; not mercenaries and not traitors, just an isolated lineage that wasn't usually worthy of much attention from any larger players. But for someone interested in getting himself more bodies – well, that was what made them attractive to an outfit like Orochimaru's. While he made a point of pursuing certain bloodlines, he also had a pattern of seeking out those who were skilled but not _too_ skilled.

Bodies.

She was just a body. A vessel. Something separate.

“Risu, on your left!”

Sakura was 'Risu,' and the warning came from Sai. He only said it for show, and she reacted as a less experience fighter would. Over-extended a kick and then got slammed in her torso for the effort.

Her cover knew only a limited amount of taijutsu and was better suited to setting traps than brawling. Nonetheless, Sakura was able to curl over the knee at her stomach and swing her weight forward. She took out her opponent's other leg with her own and they both toppled to the ground. She had more advantage there; flexible and writhing and unrelenting.

The man she was grappling made the mortal error of losing his grip on his knife.

Sakura disabled one of his arms, managed in their tangled movements to coincidentally sever tissue that kept him from properly moving fingers, keeping any sort of grip, and hindering the force of any punches he might try to land.

Her cover was weaker, maybe, but that didn't mean she had to lose.

She put all her weight over the man under her thighs, applying a good bit of force to the man's neck as she nearly popped his arm from its socket. His free hand went to her face, thumb reaching and failing to find a hold in her eye. Instead she bit into his wrist.

Her cover was weaker but she was valuable yet.

Around her, in the small wooded area in which her cell matched weapons with the raiding party, Sakura looked up from choking out the Oto nin to watch her teammates play their roles admirably.

Everyone had a part to play and she had maneuvered herself as best she could amongst them.

Ken didn't seem to be paying her any mind, but Sakura knew better.

They would catch the nin for interrogation. Or, really, taking one prisoner would be sufficient, and at least one enemy would have to escape.

Again, she heard Sai call out her name. Within the span of those two syllables, a particular and painful order of events took place: firstly, Sakura lost her vision; almost simultaneously while hearing a sharp sort of _thwack;_ and feeling a shockwave of pain rupturing out from a specific spot on the back of her head. She lost her grip on the man she was holding down. She might have lost her grip on anything, and her body seemed to slacken some, like how a sack does when the rice inside shifts suddenly. Most importantly, during this quick succession, something wrapped around her – multiples of something like metallic cord – and she was yanked backwards.

It all happened too fast to register immediately. Someone was pulling her away and she felt sedated and numb and still full of aches. Instinctively, as she noticed Sai reaching his hand out for her, Sakura reached back. She couldn't tell if she really moved at all.

They might have touched their fingers, she didn't know, but in the next second she was gone.

-o-

Sometimes she didn't make it to their prearranged meetings. It happened. It was _expected_ in their sort of mission. They had plans for it.

Kakashi was only annoyed because the backup plans weren't panning out either. Sakura was on another mission outside of the village and back in her slot as a medic for Ken's cell. Nothing she could help, really. It was a good thing, really.

He wasn't disappointed by the lack of a message left for him with the staff of the rooftop cafe, signaling to him she was ready to meet again in another secure location. And worry wasn't the word. Kakashi was...impatient? He had things he wanted to talk to her about. Thoughts that had been plinking off him like stones off the wall across from a bored kid on a summer's eve. _Flick, smack. Flick, smack_ in a tiresome loop.

He was agitated, maybe.

The thought that shadowed him most – “ _I've lost all my students._ ”

Sakura's circumstance was different, in that he might have lost her to the job, to the demands of their lifestyle, rather than lost her to another, more powerful and attentive mentor. Or maybe it was that as well and in more than one way? No, no.

It wasn't that he had really _lost_ her.

He didn't think that for several more weeks.

-o-

Sakura was not unconscious for very long after she was taken from the fight. But she had been drugged or put under a jutsu and for what her memories were worth, she might as well have been flat knocked out the entire time. She remembered sensations of being cramped and it being hard to breathe, like she were wrapped in spider silk and sunk into a warm, wet clay pit. She remembered brief flashes of being terrified and confused and then succumbing to darkness.

She had been transported somewhere for an indeterminate time and by an indeterminate method.

Awake again, however, she had a general grasp of her situation – if only because she recognised the face of the man observing her, and so many others in their tight and writhing space, from a suspended walkway high over her head.

Kabuto.

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.

.

-o-

 


	22. The Splitting .iii

 

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.

.

_take it, take it again, stitch the spine back in_

-o-

After spending days in the man's company back in the Forest of Death, for a brief, chilling moment, Sakura entertained the thought she was memorable enough for Kabuto to recognise.

She wasn't.

Her eyes had stared, wide and focused, on his, but the man had not deigned for her a second's attention in return. Sakura was just one in a group of prisoners and his gaze had scanned over her like a person mulling over which of the yet ripened fruit _might_ be worth purchasing. (None, for the moment.)

Including herself, there were twenty two people in the room. She had counted as many as she had gotten the schematics of her environment. But that opportunity to take in any visual details had been short; almost immediately since, both her eyes had been sealed shut and her hands bound behind her back. To further restrain her mobility, a rope ran from a collar around her neck to one of several metal bars overhead. They were all on leashes and its system was rigged so that there was never any slack in the line. Her communication was also limited, physically she and her fellow prisoners were only capable of soft hums from their throats and not much else in way of speaking. The sound of skin clapping against skin and the constant bumps of someone against her informed Sakura they were all as naked as she felt.

Kabuto had seen them, gone without comment, and then they had been hosed down with gravel rough water and repackaged into their current state.

Before the shower, she had determined that the room wasn't impenetrable. It was a ten metre by ten metre by fifteen metre space. Tiled around, two doors opposite another about six metres off the floor, bisecting the room with a metal walkway stretching between them. Pipes came out from the walls near the ceiling and were fitted with a sprinkler system. Drains in the form of a shallow trough outlined the floor. There were seats along the walls, but they were awkwardly high up and too narrow for a comfortable perch. There was enough lead from their collars for them to move to the seats, but not enough space on the shallow edge for each of them to sit at one time. About twelve, she estimated, if people were generous with personal boundaries.

Even with her hands tied and her eyes blinded, she could get out. The Oto nin had done nothing to limit her chakra, likely assuming taking away the ability to form hand seals, their bare vulnerability and mounting physical fatigue together were enough of a dissuasion to keep any of them from attempting escape. She guessed it might have been the appropriate estimation for most everyone in the room with her, but assumptions were never safe.

When one of them made the clever decision to climb up the person next to them, making to leap to the walkway, an electric current shocked through their leashes.

For a long while, no one tried any more tricks.

At one point, Sakura started to count the time. A day and more passed and she stopped.

Sakura waited and she occupied her mind with any all thoughts that could come to her. The room around her assaulted her senses and, taking what vital information she had been able, she quickly closed herself off to what was happening with her other prisoners. The smells, the sounds, the textures of unseen but unavoidable things around her.

Shit, urine, sweat, vomit, bile, blood. And then the showers would turn on again, followed by hot blasts of air from fans high on the walls, and it was a constant cycle. Sakura turned her chin up to the water and drank as much as she could. It tasted the way a twang on metal wire sounded. It was their only means of hydration and there was nothing more for sustenance.

What was the point? She wondered.

She was pretty sure she knew the answer.

At times she would make her way to the wall to sleep. A few seconds rest and then her body would start to slacken and the collar round her neck would tighten and she would jerk back awake. This was another cycle. Some of the prisoners didn't much appreciate it. Tempers and exhaustion and the lack of rational thinking led to frustrated conflicts. A lot of body checks and kicking.

Sakura was at the wall, “sleeping,” when she felt another body pressed against her. The person was hard and she wanted to die, but maybe not as much as the boy attached to the illogical and insistent thing between them. She eventually became more used to the things that still happened in the room – despite it's remorselessly vile situation.

What was the purpose of all this?

Someone still had tears in them and the room for a while filled with muted sobbing.

Another shower, two minutes. The fans ran again, ten minutes. The fans coincided with a different electric humming from the lights, and Sakura thought they were heat lights to help the prisoners dry faster. Weakened and remorsefully shamed, but the showers and warming process were meant for something. Maybe to keep them minimally intact in order to serve some other purpose?

One of the group died in a scuffle. It sounded like they had been bitten and gnawed on until they started to bleed out. There was iron in the air and in her mouth. The fight invited the showers and during the spray, the dying prisoner was removed. Sakura smelled the Oto nin and their cleanliness was enviable and intoxicating. That was the first death and it opened a gate to welcome others to the same end. Their number dropped.

Sakura didn't sleep enough and her body shook for two days straight. Her system expelled anything and more she had inside her. She sweated and forgot her mind for just as long.

She woke up with bodies slumped against her on either side and the feeling was no longer anything to note. Bones pushed out against skin and when any of them moved, it was like sticks knocked together.

Her nails became longer and her head itched with hair growth.

The real estate of the suspended benches was valuable. A person could sleep best there and everyone wanted to get their feet off the permanently slick, always a little bit damp tiles beneath their feet. Sakura would stand on one foot and let the other recover before switching. It was a mind numbing existence and she would have slit a man's throat to be able to feel her eyes blinking again. Damned if she saw anything, she just wanted to blink.

She began to worry when she lost interest in feeling those sensations again. Too much time was passing.

More than what she suspected – _What was the point?_

It was however long after arriving in the room when something changed. A scraping sound of metal sliding on metal and then the downpour of the showers. The water didn't drain. Instead, it collected at their feet until they were ankle deep. It remained there for hours. And hours. And longer still. The reason for this wasn't immediately apparent.

As they had all tried to get away from the wetness of the tiled floor before, the renewed and more imperative effort to free their skin of the perpetual water started to eat away at any remaining control and patience between them.

And in the madness to hold onto any space above the ground, Sakura remembered what she had earlier supposed was the ultimate purpose of the room: stressors to awaken something one or more of them might not have ever realised previously. Orochimaru was still searching for bloodline limits – even now resorting to attempting to stimulate dormant abilities in prisoners he had scouted from unaffiliated clans. The observation came from a quiet part of her mind – somewhere drowned out by adrenaline and survival instincts.

It seemed the recent batch including her was lacking.

No one had any 'awakening' of any sort. They merely devolved into a brawling mass of teeth and knees. She used her head to knock out someone and she was pretty certain their immobile body was suffocating on their collared noose behind her. No mind. There were more people crowding around her, trying to get to higher ground and so she used their bodies like stepping stones, hooked her leg around a neck and squeezed. From there, she channeled chakra to her feet and kicked at a sternum attached to some other body. She took out legs and kneed a nose into a skull.

Really, all she wanted was out from the water and the torrential rain of the showers.

The loud water and the shouts and the storm of her pulse. Underneath it all, the mantra of her rank and her mission. She was blinded, but she heard the person charging her, knew which foot was coming up for a hit to her head, knew how to dodge around their momentum. She stopped herself from returning the kick in kind. She had to stop reacting and start thinking.

And she realised who was shouting; not other prisoners, muted as she was, but guards. The guards only entered for the reason of removing bodies. She wasn't one of the bodies, but she had made bodies. Did that count? Would they take her too? She couldn't afford to get their attention – Let her stay in the room, she hoped – Let her stay and smash her way out – _Let her use her fists_ –

But they found her.

-o-

Her body was attached to her cot like the two were magnets. Sakura thought a jutsu was at fault at first, but her mind cleared and she understood her exhaustion for what it was. Her eyes burned and watered, she clenched them shut but soon realised she could open them. It had been so long the sensation was foreign and painful. She could see, if only with very blurry vision and an extreme sensitivity to light.

She was waking up. She had been lying down. She felt _dry_ and even _clean._ Sore and almost without energy, but somehow refreshed.

A chemical smell and the intravenous line in her arm told her she was in hospital. A catheter, too. She'd been out for awhile. Or under?

Sakura wondered, only then, where she was.

She was in the prisoner's cell last... The guards had come and gotten her and then she had slept. Until...

She was still in Otogakure.

The answer didn't come from her, so much as in the form of the man who appeared at her bedside just as the question occurred to her.

He was, as was his style, smiling in a very benign manner.

“Your eyes speak of recognition,” Kabuto said, not glancing up from the notes he was reading. The smile peaked at one corner. “That's a...sign. You've been with us, but not exactly cognisant, for several days.”

He put aside the clipboard to lean over her.

Sakura tried to throw her arms up and failed. They were tied at her sides. So she squirmed and tried to shrink away in futility.

“I only want to ask you to follow a few, simple commands. That's all.” More smiles and gentle words. “Relax. You have it good here, little girl. I could have authorised you for Juugo's study. See? That would be a cause for concern.”

Juugo's study meant nothing to her, but its introduction made her pause. It was out of curiosity, but Kabuto thought she calmed from his reassurances.

“That's good, that's good,” he cooed. “You understand me? Yes. Make a fist for me? Good, good. And move your toes? I see, that's functioning, too. Left foot? Now the right? I see, I see. Interesting. Well.”

Sakura narrowed her eyes as the man contemplated her successful tasks.

He sighed, disheartened. “Well,” he repeated, and tacked another smile to his face. “I'll try again tomorrow.”

Tapping her forehead with the clipboard, he gave her an indulgent once over. He didn't seem to be addressing Sakura so much as himself. “Don't frown. I'll crack her jutsu. Eventually.”

Again, meaningless words.

Kabuto withdrew a bottle from his lab coat pocket and a needle, adding the bottle's contents to her IV line. A sedative or similar, Sakura thought. She would have enough time to wait until he departed before removing her restraints and the line –

And then his hand connected with her forehead and she saw black.

.

.

-o-

“You're awake. That's good. And you can understand me? Yes? Good. You've been in and out before now, but it seems this time your more cognisant. Don't worry, don't worry. I'm just going to ask you to do a few tasks for me. Can you make a fist with your left hand? Good, that's good. And your right? Well. We'll try again tomorrow.”

.

.

-o-

“You can understand me? Good, good. We've met before, but I'm afraid you might not have had your wits about you. You're doing better today. _Shh, shh._ Relax. There's no need to fuss, I'm just going to ask a few simple tasks of you. Can you move your right foot for me? Just the toes – ah, there. Good. Good. And your left? Ah, I see.”

.

.

-o-

“...Hello. You're awake. That's good. I can see in your eyes that you're more with us today than you have been in the past. That's good. And can you understand me? Yes, good...”

.

.

-o-

“Why wasn't this one moved on to the selection process in S-unit?” Asked a new voice.

Someone she didn't know was talking. And they were close to her. They might have been the person touching her. She was scared for a second, but then thought that it was good someone was there. Someone to latch onto to keep her from falling back to the darkness.

“Showed symptoms of withdrawal. Automatic 'no.'”

“Oh. She was strong though, wasn't she?”

At least two people in the room with her. She thought it was inside a room, at least. The warmth of the air, the hum of electric lights. Inside, she thought, definitely. Her body was heavy and unresponsive. She felt hungover.

“Tch. I'm stronger than her,” came the second speaker's voice. It was a touch defensive. And then, more reluctantly softer, “do you need help?”

The sound of material ripping apart and suddenly her ankle and then her arm were free from their restraints. Her lethargy kept her in place, though.

“No, I'm fine. They're all featherlight at this point.”

She was being flipped onto her stomach and scrubbed with a cloth. A dry bath. The action was familiar to her, but from a cotton-swabbed distance. She knew what it was called and that it was used on patients who couldn't wash themselves.

“Hold on!”

She felt the hands gently scrubbing her back still, and then the second person in the room was leaning over her. The air around this person was different, more intense and less amiable. Her hands were rougher and they swept over a particular spot on her back with purpose and wonder.

“No way,” that person said, disbelief quieting her words. The fingers ghosting her back went to her nape and flitted over the locks of hair laid down her neck. “ _I know_ her _._ I _fought_ her. During the Miyabe raid. What...what the hell is she doing here? Don't – don't – no, never mind. I'll be back in a moment.”

“Karin?” The first person asked after the second, who had quickly left the room. And then, seemingly alone again, the person mimicked in an amused way, “' _I'm stronger than her!'_ Ha! I mean, maybe she's right, but the gall...”

On her bed, flipped over and vulnerable as she was, something in her head played on repeat like a tolling bell. Miyabe. She knew that name. It was important to her.

A slide slotted into place and she remembered. Miyabe Shoma. He was important to her and he was dead and these people were responsible.

She smelled fire and burning flesh. It was in her nose and her throat, her lungs and in her head.

A second passed and the _thunk_ of metal colliding with skin and bone resonated in her ears. She was upright on her mattress, three of her limbs free from their restraints, and her right arm still tied to the bar she held in that hand. The metal had ripped from its welded points in her grip. She had swung the makeshift weapon with ease at the person's head and now they were on the floor, a slack heap of person in a growing circle of red.

“That was for him,” she thought in response the unconscious girl on the floor. Closing her eyes, Reina felt vindicated.

There was work to do.

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-o-

 


	23. The Splitting .iv

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.

_the cremation torches, shadows play on corpses_

 -o-

Their's was the disposal unit. Gou was not yet used to working the new job. He'd been in sanitation previously, and had only dealt with the deceased then. Facing the living specimen was different, knowing their unavoidable fate and having to play a part in its conclusion – that he hadn't quite warmed to yet.

His shift partner, however, delighted in the job. His name was something boring and forgettable and everyone called him Croak anyhow, on account of his froglike appearance. Something about his cheeks and his flat nose and bubbled lips and rubbery, slick neck. Croak liked working in disposal and would taunt the specimens with less than clever jabs as he led them into the chamber. He had the privilege of walking above them by a good five metres and the aid of an electric shock stick if they ever tried anything shady, moved too slowly, or keeled over for any reason. And when the gas was deployed for termination inside the windowed chamber, he liked to watch them from the other side of the glass with his face real close. Close enough to steam from his breath.

According to those in charge, gas was inexpensive, readily applied, and ideal for en masse usage in everything from cost, efficiency, and clean up. Even menial workers like himself and Croak, who had no skills for jutsu of any sort, were capable of taking out the trash in the chambers.

Gou didn't like the job. He hated even acknowledging the things they led to the room. The specimen were grotesque in behaviour and appearance and were deemed for termination only after the full extent of Kabuto's scientific endeavours had been exhausted. Well, the endeavours in need of living tissue, at least. Some of the bodies were useful for slicing and prodding in postmortem.

Specimen. With little numbered tags pierced through their skin and all. If the hide was too thick to stab, then a seal burned into it with the same systematic labelling method. Specimen and Gou had to ignore the way some of them managed to have scraps of clothing still defiantly attached to them, caught around a protrusion, or stubbornly stretched over a thinness of an arm or above an ankle. But the clothes were remnants of a human long passed. The bodies were defunct products of the curse-mark, crude in formation and impossible of sustaining biological functions for any profitable amount of time. Whoever lived inside those bodies after the transformations – for them, Gou sincerely prayed they had died before having to endure the hellishness of such a state.

He was praying this again after catching sight of one of the specimen – large and bowed into itself with a tooth grown up and out the top of its head, effectively clamping its jaw shut and caving in half its skull. It moaned long vowels and quick, chesty grunts of pain and feelings even more terrible as Croak goaded it from the track into the room with the end of an extended corralling tool.

“It's not human,” Gou lied to himself, listening to his partner. _It's not human, it's not human, this isn't human._

As he turned from the viewing glass into the two storied chamber adjacent to their room, his chanting thoughts were interrupted by something different. A smell. It was like smoke, but not the smoke he was used to from their facility. Not the smell of organic tissue charcoaling. He was hovering in the corner of their control room and he turned to look back through the door from which they had just come. Beyond the room was a larger, open chamber for housing the specimen. It was bisected through its width with a length of a raised walkway. The walkway led to a door opposite and another part of the facility. More rooms for procedures and holding different experiments. The door was metal and built for security, but the base was old and its edges were less than what they used to be.

Gou forgot his partner and their task for a moment, staring at the door across the way. He thought he saw something coming through the seams, wisps rising in the air. He frowned, trying to see a little better.

The lights flickered and cut out.

“What the shit?”

The backup lights turned on and suddenly the rooms were illuminated only by a soft red glow. The screens on their equipment were black.

Croak dropped back from pushing up against the glass. He was suddenly much more sober and wary. “The containment door is locked, right?”

“Yeah,” Gou said. His voice scratched and he swallowed spit, trying to ease the dryness in his throat. Casually, “You smell smoke?”

“Is it the fucking generators?”

Gou wanted to say, yeah, probably. The base occasionally had electrical problems. Losing the lights wasn't unheard of.

“Did you say something about smoke?” Croak asked. He was also glaring at the door across the way from them. “The generators might be overheating.”

Before a response came to him, a static crackle from his hip made Gou jump. It was his radio. They both stared at it, waiting for words to come across, but the static noise garbled incoherently in the otherwise quiet room and then shut off.

“Generators are above ground,” he said in the resuming silence. Along with their inter-base communications broadcasting towers for their secured channels.

Both their eyes went back to the door. There was smoke coming from its edges.

The sounds of the specimen mulling and groaning from the chamber below became louder and more distinguishable as they both waited dully for a moment. Someone was going to report in about the smoke and the lights any second. Probably.

Above them, the backup lights went out and the darkness around them was absolute.

Croak hissed a line of curse words, but he spoke in little stubborn and stuttered bits. “This fucking piece of shit base. Fucking shit electrical work.”

Over his partner's forced grouching, Gou's hearing strained to pick up more. His eyesight useless, his other senses worked overtime. He might have been imagining the muted shouts and quick cries from elsewhere in the base.

Croak shuffled in the room, moving to the back wall and fumbling with things on the ground.

“The rooms have a battery system,” Croak explained without provocation. “For when shit like this happens. But I can't tell which fucking button...”

Gou mimicked the unconcerned, mildly bothered tone. “Right. Yeah. Yeah, I got a light on me somewhere.”

He found a scroll from his back pouch and felt the seal for the one that would glow temporarily once opened. He dropped it on the floor next to Croak and then immediately felt useless. His partner was a morbid clash of glowing yellow light and black shadows as he worked.

Gou straightened from his watchful leaning. His eyes were back on the door. Its frame was lit, barely, and there was nothing past it but the darkness. He asked, “did you hear that?”

He had heard something like the shrill creak of metal sliding over metal. A draft of air struck him and the smell of smoke intensified.

More curse words from Croak. Barely discernible, and with a lot less cool, “we're fucking under ground, the base is on fire, can't see for shit, I'm gonna fucking die...”

Then a relieved sigh as something clicked and the room came alight again.

Croak was relieved.

Gou was not. His eyes were strained and for a moment, and he told himself it was all his imagination, but he couldn't look away from the door and what was forming in his vision just beyond the light of their room. He could see something standing on the walkway. Its shadowed figure was looking at them. Watching and rocking with its breathing. A weight fell down his middle, shivering his spine and thunking somewhere low in his body. His palms were slick and cool. His mind supplied the sound of ragged inhalations where his ears surely couldn't catch them...

“There's,” he paused to lick his dry lips, “there's something out there.”

“Well, is the asshole going to tell us if there's a damn fire or not?” Croak asked in response, not looking out the door in a manner that was almost defiant. Bravado, or something like that. Denial. His attention was back to the equipment. His words began to crash into one another as he spoke. Stuttering. “The f-fucking lights aren't on in the c-cage.”

“I think...” Gou started to say, trying to see better the shape in the darkness, “...it's a person...”

“Where the h-hell is the operation m-manual. This thing's still f-fucking on?”

It was a person. Or like a person. Staring at it made the hair on his neck stand on end. There was something wrong with the stick thin silhouette, lopsided and twitching with its steps. One hand was dragging a length of metal. Piping, maybe. He heard the scraping and clank it made over the flooring as the person approached.

“Croak,” Gou said, his hand blindly reaching to get his attention. Croak shook off his hold and refused to turn away from the machines. “Croak, this isn't –”

The drag of metal stopped and the figure was motionless outside the reach of light. Gou watched it lift the pipe in its hand and bring it to the door jamb. It tapped the side three, four times. Croak finally pulled to his feet and stared, slack in his jaw, with Gou. At the same time, they each seized up and neither of them breathed. But the room was loud with long raspy inhalations.

It was a girl at the door. At least, he thought. He could really only surmise from the column of her neck and the ridges of her clavicles close together above the line of her shirt. Dressed in subject rags, pale and dry like death. Her bones pushed out like sticks under a sheer canvas and her veins were bulging and noticeable. He could see outlines of tendons and when she breathed it looked like the movement might push her ribs slice clean out from her skin. Purple skin around sunken eyes and teeth that looked too big for her emaciated face.

She looked at them, dropped her head to one side, and smiled. Her lip ruptured open and blood, thick and slow, oozed from the split.

“What the _fuck?_ ”

Gou heard Croak, processed what he had said, and then flinched when a hot, sticky splattering hit the right side of his body. Every muscle and tendon and bone in him resisted Gou as he turned to look at Croak. The pipe was obvious first, and then it was the spray of blood, and next it was the remains of a head pinned into the wall next to him.

The girl walked into the room and she smelled of gore and smoke and everything awful. She ignored him in favour of the window into the chamber. He wondered if she knew what she was looking into, but she noticed the specimen and it was obvious from her movements she was counting them. Something on the glass caught her attention that made her recoil. Or, perhaps the sickly picture reflected in it.

She leaned closer, dragged her fingers with a sleek rub over the glass as if to confirm the reflection were actually hers. She mumbled a string of incoherent words and sounds and then swallowed a painful noise and went quiet. Her attention returned to the specimen in the chamber below and he saw her expression thin again. Her hand hovered over the switches that would activate the gas.

Gou waited and wondered at her options and it was a second before he noticed she had moved her eyes to stare at him.

He'd said something. A little noise from his dry and closed throat.

His vision jerked and his head bobbed back as a fissure of pain erupted in his skull. She'd thrown a knife into his right eye. Somehow he knew that.

The lights went out again.

.

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-o-

 


	24. The Splitting .v

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  _silk on silk on silk, it's an arrow's mettle_

-o- 

Sai waited for Ken to approach him with the inevitable decision. It had been four days since the raiding party had found them and taken Sakura. They had rested through the night and dawn had finally broken. Nothing from their lost team mate. There were protocols for this sort of thing and Ken would be one to adhere to the expectations.

Sai felt the grooves of ink under his fingertips from the scroll he had open and wished there was chakra warmth there to meet his skin. He watched his own movement so that he didn't have to look up as his CO came to a stop in front of where he sat by the cooling embers of their fire.

“I need to send a message,” Ken said.

It was Sai's ink ninjutsu that would get information back to Konoha.

“We're leaving?” Sai asked. It was rhetorical, but it wasn't like him to question his captain. The words were out before he could stop himself.

Ken was a silent figure behind his white mask. “Get your supplies ready for departure. We'll be on standby for orders.”

Sai wanted to ask if they would pursue Sakura. He wondered for how long they would wait.

-o- 

Kakashi went to the window of the Hokage's office and stared out at the village. He leaned onto its ledge, knuckles pale with his weight and with worry. It was poor form to show his back to his Hokage, but she was unconcerned with conventions at the moment. Or, perhaps she was sympathetic to his fumbling attempt to hide his reaction to the news she had for him.

“She's been gone nearly a week now,” Tsunade said. Her voice was thin with impatience and a quiet anger.

“Is she dead?” Kakashi had to ask.

“My student? Hardly. Sakura is too stubborn to die.”

He winced, tried to hide it with a strong exhalation.

“And also,” Tsunade clarified, “because of our pact with Katsuuyu, I know she's alive.”

The dread that left him was heavy and, feeling light and without tension, Kakashi was thankful he had the window to support himself.

Tsunade could have just opened with that...

“Sakura's been gone for a month,” he said, pushing past his winded relief.

“Their mission took them further from the village than expected.”

“They're saying she's been out of pocket for a week?” He didn't believe them. The situation wasn't what they were trying to pass it off as. “What was the mission?”

“Undercover. Tracking and obtaining a chuunin suspect for a murder case CID has. Remember the body left in the walls of that apartment complex under construction?”

“Hn.” Kakashi had only heard about it second hand. It wasn't unusual for ANBU squads to be called in for cases like that, though. “And what was the status on that recovery?”

Tsunade smirked without humour. “Wouldn't you know, their partner squad came in with the suspect deceased a day prior to Sakura going missing."

“Of course. And this was all in total collaboration with her ANBU cell."

The missions were definitely covering something else, someone else's directives, but the paperwork would never reflect as much. There was no coincidence in Kakashi's mind that after looking into the Oto raids in the contested territories they would happen to lose Sakura to a surprise ambush.

He said vaguely, “some coincidence.”

Tsunade understood his meaning.

He pushed from the window, shoulders a little straighter and taller than normal.

“Stop your feet, brat. You're not dismissed.” Tsunade watched him as he patiently returned to attention. Her eyes were discerning. “Don't think you're getting involved in this, Kakashi. This isn't your due.”

A quick retort died on his lips and she cut him off.

“This is my apprentice. ...She's in _his_ country. I'm not going to be reckless about how we move forward. It cannot leak that _this_ operative is missing and in this way. If he understands who he might have in his possession, Kakashi...”

Sakura being the one taken made for complications. Her position as an apprentice to the Fifth, the knowledge she had, her association with her former team mates, not to mention anything of her other duties. There was a larger play at work on the board, was Tsunade's point to him. Inter-village and internal politics to consider, consequences to weigh for any action taken, and all their emotions and personal connections needed to be kept in check. Unfortunately, some of it came down to the simple fact that Sakura's unconfirmed status meant Kakashi couldn't move without risk in exposing her triple-allegiance.

“I know who I'm sending out on this. She won't be gone very long.” Tsunade took a scroll from her desk and handed it to him.

The retrieval squad included Yamanaka and Aburame clan members, Genma, and Raido. The roster was impressive and he didn't have a legitimate reason to scowl, but he did anyway.

He wanted to believe her and trust in her judgement. But he would have preferred to go himself.

“For the moment,” Tsunade continued, “you have other missions waiting, Kakashi.”

For the moment, he thought. “Yes, ma'am.”

-o- 

Leafless trees and snow-bowed evergreens, the last melting ice of winter on the ground. Sakura was in the woods. Bare feet, a throwaway gown, and a jacket too tall in its fit that was certainly not her own. Under one arm, a sealed scroll. A short bladed sword in her hand. Smoke hung on her, carried on the wind, too, but from a distance. Nothing was familiar. She darted her eyes to different things: birds moving, a stream, grasses dull and brown. She didn't know where she was or from where she had come.

A cough seized her lungs and there wasn't enough air.

She couldn't remember what she had to do.

“Sai?” She tried asking, but another word left her lips. Something unrelated. She jumped a little, thinking it must have been someone else to speak, but it was her. A random word, and when she tried again, it was more the same. Nothing she said came out right and it made her stomach drop. The more she spoke to the quiet forest around her, the more useless inanity filled the space. Phantom noises she would swear were hers. She wasn't herself.

Sakura was rust and charcoal all over and there was something wrong with her head.

She hadn't been herself.

A spasm started in her shoulder and traveled down her arm. She dropped the sword. It was covered in dry filth and she stepped back from its dark branding on the white ground.

There was a tree with a soft needle bed beneath its heavy boughs and Sakura took shelter there. She unsealed the scroll. It was her handwriting that had closed it. Once open, it revealed piles of folders and even more scrolls. Records for the logistics of mass experimentation. Specific details, charts, proposals, methods, and results came as she looked more thoroughly.

She remembered she had gone to Sound for this information. A mission. That was where she had come from – the base. She had been taken to a base by a raiding party. She'd been held until she had escaped. She was still in enemy territory.

The base. Sakura couldn't breathe and her throat was a tightening vise. _The base_. She remembered the smoke and the flames. Her hands were fire raw and there was crust under her nails from blood and ashes.

She buried them in paperwork to keep from seeing the damning evidence.

Something was wrong with her.

No names for demarkation on any of the files, only codes like the one scorch-raised into the underside of her wrist. They contained pictures, medical information, and the goals for Kabuto's experiment. She read what she could decipher of his notes and felt a strange emotion swell in her middle. Disgust and satisfaction, both. Wherever she had fallen into his testing, nothing had come to fruition as he had planned.

She spoke a string of nonsense and then shut her mouth. She'd cursed the man out but no one would have known it had they heard her. Kabuto hadn't set out to destroy her ability to speak, she didn't think, and it was a side affect from whatever he had been trying to do that she was certain she would be able to eliminate.

Finished with looking at the files, she returned them to their place in the sealed scroll. She was supposed to turn the information she stole from the base over to her cell captain. That had been her mission. It had been her objective after capture to then discern the reasons behind their raids.

Her superiors behind the mission inception had wondered if the raids were for obtaining subjects for testing.

Sakura had their confirmation.

Everything was damp and she couldn't feel the cold, but her empty stomach turned and she could hear every inch of her creaking with the unresolved heaving. Kabuto would require more subjects. Everything he lost in the base he would want back. For all those she had taken from him already, she had damned just as many more.

No one would do anything to stop it, she thought.

She had nowhere to go until she righted what had been done to her by Kabuto. Not until she had her words back in order.

When she was ready, she would activate the ink disguised in the tattoos over her skin; it was part of Sai's ninjutsu and he would know she was looking to return. Her team was waiting for her signal.

She did...she did have people waiting for her. Not all had been lost in the fire.

Pushing the loose strands of hair from her face behind her ears, she found the specific place within the hidden seals to activate the justu. Sai's jutsu connected them and he would be able to summon her once she opened her side. Something like signalling to open a transportation scroll.

Her fingers shook as she made the hand seals and her normally highly responsive chakra seemed to slow and stall her system with each subsequent sign.

Her chest visibly rocked with a doubled-up heartbeat.

She waited, tried again, and there was nothing. Her arm spasmed.

-o- 

“This isn't the right time, Kakashi.”

“You're right.” Kakashi closed the last latch on the armor over his shin and then gave the pug sitting at the end of his mattress a tired look. “The right time was months ago. ...I should have gone to get her _months ago_.”

Pakkun wasn't trying to make that point and his silence seemed to emphasize as much.

“Have you always been this sensitive to following the rules? My own flesh and blood... You know, no one gives a shit about what I do, Pakkun.” Kakahsi said, a bit defensive from the silent judgement of his summons. “These days, I'm just another asset.”

He said it and he believed it, but his audience did not. Kakashi added, “with Jiraiya on his way into the village, now would be a fine time to sneak out. You should be happy, I'm running the whole pack.”

The pug hummed – or growled, maybe – unconvinced.

He was doing what his father had done, he realised, by going against the decisions that were made for the whole good of the village over the meagre weight of one person's life. But then – Kakashi could always justify Sakura was worth much more to the village alive and out of enemy hands and _he,_ as her jounin sensei and one of the most talented ninja of his generation, was perfectly capable of getting her back. The other four were unreliable, clearly.

“If I _don't_ do this now, it will be Naruto running off as soon as he figures out what's going on. He'll be back in a few days. We can't wait.”

“And if _that_ convinces you _,_ then sure. Sure, you're justified.”

“The Fifth will be fine without me for a few days. I'll get this done.” _Someone_ needed to.

Still a bit reserved about the very minimally, very slightly 'abandonment of one's post” aspect of Kakashi's plans, Pakkun listed, “you understand you're doing this even though she's alive, she's capable, she's a kunoichi, she's not your sole responsibility –”

“I don't –” Kakashi's voice jumped and he took a second to breathe. He cursed, rubbed at the headache forming between his eyes. Standing up and continuing with getting his gear together, he said, “this _is_ my due, Pakkun. I'm her handler and the people she's acting operative for have thrown her away. Both sides, Pakkun. And..that... That cannot include me any longer.”

He punctuated his resolve with the cool slide of his katana into its sheath on his back. His old uniform from black ops and a new blade. He looked to the open window of his apartment bedroom, then back to his summons.

“Now, you joining me or what?”

Pakkun tilted his head and hopped to his feet. After a second, he said, “no.”

“...Pal, that's not actually... I mean, not that I want to enforce this pact we have going, but that's not how we work usually...”

“We're not going anywhere,” Pakkun said, though he jumped to the window ledge nonetheless. “She's here in the village. I can smell her.”

Kakashi went straight, a bolt of tension and apprehension shooting up his spine, and the small amount of mirth he'd allowed dissipated. “Where?”

He had donned his stealthiest, most elaborate uniform, ready to ditch his village entirely and they found Sakura in the village hospital. She was laid out in a private room, flanked with the Hokage's personal guard, and only recently arrived. They had intercepted her en route.

Kakashi hung back on an adjacent rooftop to the hospital as he sent an unassuming Biscuit, sans his typical summon's bandana, to get more information. He sat perched on the concrete wall for an hour until the report came back.

“She's not in any imminent peril,” Biscuit said, rejoining him and Pakkun. “She got back on her own to the border a day ago. Dehydrated and quiet, but she seems alright.”

“She's alright?” He asked, went slack when the dog nodded again. She was safe and she was back.

Kakashi took the porcelain mask from his head, the mask away from his mouth, to breathe. He dragged a hand over his face.

What was he doing?

Sakura was home and it wasn't any thanks to him at all. 

.

.

.

-o-

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if there are a lot of errors! How is the story developing for everyone? I hope it's not too disappointing that Sakura didn't get a big rescue, but I like the idea of her getting herself out of trouble a little too much... :) If you have been reading non-stop, please consider a water break! Happy reading :)


	25. The Red .i

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_no savior anymore, welcome all the shadows at the door_

-o-

Sakura was at the edge of the Fire Country border and about to leave everything dangerous behind her. The terrain was an open, dead, and shallow marsh. Maybe it was a bog, she didn't know the difference. She did know the next thousand meters were a buffer zone between Sound and her country. To both the east and the west would be outposts, occupied by a four man squad of three genin and a chuunin. At different times, there would be patrol squads going between the outposts.

She had waited six hours to make the crossing from Sound into the buffer zone. At nautical dawn, when the wildlife came back to full activity, she had made her move, covered in a makeshift suit of leaves and forest debris. Her face and hair were painted with muck, her hands and any visible skin too. She had removed the tattoos for Sai's ninjutsu and it had made her skin almost bright in their absence. The moonlight and early rays of sun had singled her out as if she had glowed.

Approaching Konoha's side, she finally felt comfortable to shed her camouflage and took bolder steps forward.

The land, her body, her mind, everything was dreamlike and intangible. She was home, she was home... Less than a week since her escape, travelling on her own without supplies, having to dodge and scrape and fight to survive, but she was home.

The closer to the border, the more the trees grew in, the less the water weighed down her feet. She smelled the forest more than the swamp and she couldn't breathe deeply enough to appreciate the sweetness of her country's air. Old growth pines with trunks as large as her apartment. The forest of the First.

Sakura hugged the scroll tight to her front and noticed a second too late the presence of a trip wire underfoot. The noose round her ankle snapped her up into the air, upside down, and she had to use a chakra scalpel to cut the wire before she went very high.

Her body was heavy and slow and she didn't land quite as she would have liked. It was more a softened crash than anything a proper kunoichi would have managed. She groaned and took a moment too long to recover. Perhaps that was why the boys who descended on her position didn't take her seriously when she tried to identify herself.

More likely, it was her garbled speech and spasming muscles.

The two hit the ground and talked around her as she strained to tell them her name and shinobi identification number – neither of which came out as intended.

“She's mad.”

“Coming from that place, who wouldn't be?” Directing her as he waved a knife and mimicked the action, “put your hands up.”

Sakura gave up on talking and did as he asked, she put one hand up and used the other to tap out her numbers with her fingers. She was ignored. Her shaking limbs disguised her intentions, she thought. She shook her head, mumbling, and tried to motion with her chin to her hands.

“Haruno – Sakura. My name is Haruno Sakura,” she tried, felt her eyes water when the sounds were dull and unintelligible. Her mouth was dry and thick like cotton swabs and it didn't help her sound any more _sane_ or worthwhile to them.

One of the boys talked over her to the other, “your wire snapped. Told you not to buy from Makuto anymore. That guy's shit is from the Second War, I swear. Selling you the crap his granddad threw out."

The second shrugged in response. He was staring at her, but not really seeing her. His eyes settled on her middle. “Listen to her, she's an idiot, isn't she? And filthy. Fuck, you could smell her coming from that damn bog. Do we take her in?”

Sakura sighed. Let them take her to the outpost, she thought, at least there she could write something if they refused to acknowledge her signalling.

“We just emptied the cells day before last. There won't be another transport caravan for two weeks.”

They thought she was fleeing Sound – that she was a crazed civilian. For some reason, after the torture and the death and the running, it was her inability to communicate with her own people – those _subordinate_ to her in rank – that bowed her shoulders and made her chest tighten. She swore and only her tone and the frustrated texture of her voice were clear.

Neither of her company noticed.

One was saying, “so what? Let her run and we play chase? Target practice?”

“...Knock her out. A warm body is a warm body.” The boy came closer as he spoke, eyes going from her chest to her waist. They seemed to go to her face, but never to her eyes. “Dunk her in the stream first, maybe.”

The outpost wouldn't be far, Sakura could make it there on her own.

She knocked out the two boys before the second syllable of 'maybe' dropped. Wrapping the collars of their shirts in her hands, she made to drag them with her as she walked.

But two men stopped her before she got very far, and this time, they knew her.

“Coyote,” one greeted, and the fact he knew Sakura by her ANBU mask filled her with a warmth of reassurance. He was in a standard jounin uniform, had blond hair, and sounded vaguely familiar to her even though she didn't recognise him. He said, “we're glad to have you home.”

-o-

Tsunade was at the window with him. Her expression was more open than usual from her, as was her tiredness. Somehow he felt that she was glad for his company, and they were both bittersweet together.

“Have you visited yet?” Tsunade asked, speaking of Sakura. There were very few people who knew Sakura was in hospital and he was one of them.

Kakashi shifted an arm.

“I couldn't see her,” he admitted. And in one respect, it read to Tsunade that he wasn't permitted to see Sakura, as per their arrangement concerning her undercover mission. But it also just as easily read that his particular _personality q_ _uirks_  kept him from seeing her.

“She's been reticent,” Tsunade said. “She's ashamed. She won't even look at me when I'm in the room with her. She's all there, and she understands me, but she won't look at me.”

“It'll take time for her to process what happened.”

“... _What happened..._ ” Tsunade repeated, and her voice was suddenly rougher. Her mind seemed to be supplying all the things, 'what happened' could have and did mean. She raised a hand to her mouth, breathed three times, and then regained her composure. “I'm pulling her.”

Kakashi almost startled. “What?”

“From all of her active duties. _All of them_. I don't want her out of the village. She'll keep up her lessons as my apprentice, but otherwise – ”

“She's going to want to get back into things quickly. Pulling her from everything isn't going to make the transition easier.” Kakashi knew what Tsunade was really referring to in terms of 'duties.' She was ending Sakura's position as a spy. He understood the reaction, he sort of agreed with it, but at the same time, he wondered how the knee-jerk response would play for Sakura. “She's going to feel like you're benching her and demoting her by doing that. This will _kill_ her esteem.”

If there were one thing Sakura loathed, it was feeling worthless.

Tsunade's brow creased. She was sad and upset, but it was hidden behind one bothered line. Her sharp eyes found his. “Do you think I'm considering her esteem right now? Her esteem can heal, Kakashi, but I need the rest of her back in order. And for that, this is the best response. She needs to get sorted properly. I'll keep her close and I'll be able to help her.”

“You _will_ ease her back into things?” He said, leading her. “She's been gone long enough, the village can't afford her sitting out now that she's back. How many other medics have her skill set?”

“That decision will come when I'm ready to make the call. For now, she's grounded.”

Kakashi didn't have the right to argue. He was only too happy not to be the one to give the news to Sakura.

-o-

Sakura figured out somewhere north of the Sound border that Kabuto had messed with the signals in her brain that controlled her speech. With what she remembered of his questioning while she was in the lab, she supposed he had been attempting to recreate one of Tsunade's jutsu. His goal had been to disrupt communication for moving her limbs and he had never suspected he had affected another part of her entirely.

The damage was repairable, however, and she set about fixing it while she waited in hospital for clearance to leave. Being mute was attributed to overcoming the stress of her time in capture, which was a fine cover for her. She indicated non-verbally what she could and stared at the wall as if looking through it whenever she had nothing to contribute. Sakura wasn't keen on anyone hearing what she was unable to say, especially not after experiencing how those border shinobi had reduced her to human waste the second they couldn't understand her.

So accordingly, she was mute from trauma, and she could accept that presentation.

The room was empty when she tried to speak and for the first time in weeks, everything she said came out as intended.

“My name is Haruno Sakura,” she said. She recited her identification number, rank, and said the whole thing over just because she could. And for a third time again to enjoy the sound of her voice under her control.

The sound of her speaking to the room was somewhat lonely when no one was there to reply and so she was quiet after.

She was still sullen when she got her first visitor. The sound of nails clacking across the floor woke her from a light, thoughtless sort of slumber. Sakura leaned over the edge of her cot to see a pug sat on the floor below her.

“He said you'd rather see my cute mug than his ugly one,” Pakkun said to her. “If you want.”

Her lips pulled back and she smiled like she hadn't in ages. She scooted over and patted at a spot for the dog to join her. Pakkun scratched at her sheets, sniffed a circle at her side, and then curled himself tight up against her. He nosed her hand and it didn't take much for her to relent into a petting routine that lasted an hour or more.

“I wouldn't have minded seeing him.” The words were a sleepy confession she didn't mean to say aloud.

-o-

Sakura didn't stay in hospital for more than a few days. Having her there was high profile, as it wasn't public knowledge she had gone missing in the first place, and ultimately unnecessary medically; she was fine to do what little physical rehabilitation she had on her own.

Her walk home was slow and she didn't take any route she knew. For some reason, she wanted to see all the streets she had never walked before. She wanted to buy groceries in a new store, see people she didn't usually see. It had never really been a possibility to think about while she had been in capture, but she could have died in Sound. Hindsight made her see this, and in so many different and colorful ways, and she was both happier for her survival and incredulous at her lack of awareness for her own mortality.

She had done her job, though, and for this she treated herself to three peaches.

It was as she finished her transaction with the fruit vendor that someone tapped her arm as they passed. She heard, “follow me. Four paces.”

Life came back into focus. Sakura hid the skip that lightened her steps and coolly did as she was told. They walked in a maze pattern, up and down side streets, main streets, through crowded squares and gardens, until finally, they stopped in a courtyard below a residential complex. There was a tree with long, low hanging branches that were beaded with spring's new growth, and beneath its enveloping canopy was a bench.

Ken was standing there, waiting for her. He said her name and lifted his arms. “Nice work, apprentice.”

She didn't run to him, but embracing him was like landing a jump. Coming up for air. He pulled off his gloves to touch her face, run his hands over her hair, to _feel_ that she were really there. It was what she had been looking for ever since leaving the base in Sound and waking in the clearing with her blood-heavy sword and hollow chest. She breathed in everything about him, his composure and assuredness, and buried her head against his chest.

So warm, she thought, and present and there for her.

He was consoling her with hushed noises and gentle strokes over her hair and face and she didn't know why, really, until she realised she was crying. But she was happy, genuinely and it wasn't at all an act.

When she was composed and ready to step away, he told her the scroll and its contents were in place. He asked her, “and as for Lady Tsunade?”

Sakura nodded her head. “You were right. She's taken me off active duty. She wants me in office full time.”

He smiled. “Then everything is moving forward as we planned.”

Her happiness tempered a little as she remembered herself. She returned his sentiment. “Everything is in place.”

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.

.

-o-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anything is unclear, let me know! I will answer what I can :)


	26. The Red .ii

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_silver whisper into a dark night_

-o-

Her birthday was coming up – or maybe it had just passed – and Kakashi thought that was a fine enough cover to talk to Sakura. He didn't know at first where the best place would be to talk, and he considered during her morning exercises, her meditation time she spent behind the waterfall in training grounds twenty-two, or while she was doing rehabilitation during the afternoons...but he settled on finding her at home in the evening.

She was alone when she answered him at the door. She was in civies and looked... normal.

"Hi," Sakura said, dragging out the syllable in a cautious manner.

"Happy birthday." He motioned with the gift in his hands for emphasis. Kakashi followed her eyes as she looked between his face and the clay pot he was carrying.

"Oh." She was very cautious. "You've brought me a...dead plant?"

"Dying," he cheerfully corrected her. "You like tomatoes, right?"

"Not especially."

Kakashi tried to abate his surprise and disappointment. Well, one of his students had, he was pretty certain, and one out of three had seemed like good odds. He recovered, eloquently, "...huh."

Sakura waved her hands. "Just – give me the plant and come inside. Thank you, it's lovely."

The gesture was so strongly reminiscent of her old self that something light and relaxing filled his chest. Happiness, maybe, but he kept the feeling from going very far. It really wasn't the time for that sort of thing.

He closed the door behind him and lingered in what served as the parlor while she found a window sill for the plant. Adjusting his feet and keeping his hands from nervously rubbing at the back of his head, he told her, "we can talk, by the way. I swept the house and area. Have the pack outside for surveillance."

Sakura sent him a thin smile as she finished arranging the plant in its new spot. "I should have guessed this wasn't an  _actual_  friendly visit."

"It can't be both?"

"From you..?" She trailed off, dubious. "You can take a seat in the living room. No kettle, then?"

"No, thanks." Business had him in her house that night and he wouldn't keep up pretences if she weren't interested. He waited until she was seated across from him to talk. Trying not to observe her too closely, as if he were checking for signs of how she might be different after everything because that's how people tended to look at a person after imprisonment and no one ever liked it very much, he dove into conversation instead. "I came to see you so that we could go over what The Fifth has asked for you to do."

"About dropping our arrangement?" Sakura made a peculiar face, half contempt and half hurt. "That wasn't really up to her, was it? My target,  _my CO_ , left me for dead in Sound, Kakashi. Whatever we were chasing is no longer interested. No one wants a liability that allows herself to get taken by the enemy."

She didn't speak with self-pity, but rather a logical coldness that barbed at her disappointment in herself.

He watched her carefully as she sank deeper in her seat and wondered how to proceed. Shikaku had been the one to convince Tsunade not to give up hope on their mission, but it was Kakashi who had to keep Sakura on board, patient and willing to move forward. She had curled up on a cushion with a leg in front of her and the other under her, arms wrapped around herself. Her eyes opened and she caught him watching her and she looked away almost lazily to stare at an indistinguishable point of the room. He was the opposite of her, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his demeanor more serious and quietly anxious. It was obvious of the two which of them had an immediate objective.

"Our Hokage doesn't see you as a liability, Sakura. And 'your team' might be taking a cooling off period as well," he suggested. "If anything, as a kunoichi, you're more valuable now."

He'd said what he had  _intended_  to say incorrectly, somehow, because as soon as the words hung between them a second, the tension in Sakura's body shifted. Her soft lines were straighter, less pliable and she was suddenly more remarkably present than before.

"What about you?" She asked and in her tone he heard something like amusement, but it was shallow and tough. Sakura was almost smiling as she looked at him, her eyes clear and piercing and too calm. "Do you think I am valuable as a kunoichi and village asset now?"

The question confused him, both in its origin and implication, and he didn't say anything.

"That's fine," she said, eyeing how he struggled for words. "Don't feel obliged to answer, I'm not looking for your approval. I was curious."

Kakashi finally managed to get a response out, but it was jumbled and conveyed maybe too much how he was affronted by her thoughts. "When did you start to think I  _didn't_  see you that way?"

She smiled, very fake and very patronisingly at him. Her voice was just as unconvincing as she chirped, "everything is going to be alright!"

Her face went blank. "What a nice, easy way to brush me off."

From that time years ago on the rooftop with Sasuke and Naruto? And had he done it elsewhere as well..?

"I was trying to be considerate of your feelings, Sakura," he explained.  _Fuck._  What was he supposed to have done?

As if reading his thoughts, "you should have  _trained_  me. I've thought about that a lot. I wondered why I had to wait to learn so many things from people who weren't meant to be my instructors. But I understand your bias now."

Her attitude was very coolly scathing and he tried to keep from picking it up just as readily. He failed a little. "Please share how you became so enlightened..."

Then, with no intonation, she said, "I hadn't suffered enough."

Kakashi sat back, put more distance between them. " _What?_ "

"I had a simple background. I couldn't really understand what our profession entailed. You weren't wrong in thinking as much as that." Sakura was unaffected in her speech and countenance, but when her eyes begged his gaze back to her, she was almost stinging _._ "I'm wondering if you will see, after all this, that I have the perspective now I might have lacked before."

She asked him, "what do you think, Kakashi, am I more valuable now?"

"I always thought –"

She didn't let him finish. Or maybe he had nothing substantial to say, but either way the conversation switched again. He was glad for it.

"I'll keep you informed if anything starts moving." Sakura relaxed and her edges dulled. When she looked up at him, it was at a point past his shoulder. "You might be right that they will lay low awhile."

"This scroll has details for how you can reach out to me when – _if_ you need to."

He didn't stay at her apartment for much longer. He didn't even remember to tell her about Naruto's expected arrival. Kakashi was bothered by something and it came from her quick dismissal of her team leaving her in Sound. He should have pressed her more about it, but she had derailed his train of thought so completely.

He should have pursued it because he didn't quite believe her.

-o-

The woman in lab Zero-Four reminded Sakura of Orochimaru and she should have put the connection together sooner, but it was only after her time in Sound that the likeness became obvious.

Himeko's lab was bright and in full operation in the middle of the night. She had two other people working with her – two more unfamiliar faces in the increasingly larger shadow organisation – sorting and reading the files and scrolls Sakura had brought back from the base. With Ken, altogether the five of them were going over the purpose of the experiments.

Sakura was helpful both for her medical expertise and her firsthand experience in the base. She smiled each time Ken made a point of thanking her for her insight. He was sat across from her at a table and diligently labelling and organising, per her instructions, whatever she gave him. One time he reached out for her hand and let his fingers stay there for a light squeeze of comfort.

"This is all possible because of you," he said, appreciatively and warmly.

She felt her cheeks turn pink and she looked away in shy embarrassment. After a moment, she murmured, "it's good we're keeping track of his movements over there. He can't surprise us if we know what he's up to."

That was the reason Ken had given her for their intelligence gathering and it was a solid story, she supposed. Her eyes went to the storage units in the walls of the lab and knew it wasn't the whole truth.

Because she needed him to trust her, she waited until the noise in the lab was loud enough to cover her soft voice. "That's not all you can do with the information he's gathered."

Ken was slow to meet her gaze. He was visibly patient and expectant as he waited for her to continue.

Sakura had figured it out – Himeko was carrying on research Orochimaru had been doing prior to leaving the village. Whoever was funding her wanted her to do more.

So she said, "I can help you put it to better use for our forces."

Ken's face was reserved, but she could have sworn he was beaming. "I think we can do that."

Another comforting hold on her hand and she returned the affection.

He looked away and her smile fell. She looked to Himeko's curved back, pouring over all the new data she had.

The board was always expanding and Sakura had to be careful how she placed herself amongst the pieces.

-o-

An electrical fire had wiped out one of the bases, killing all the people and subjects trapped inside, and it was Kabuto's charge to clean up the mess and replace everything lost.

But even as he walked the site, his attention, unfortunately, was split.

Kabuto looked over the scroll he had received early in the morning hours. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about it since it had arrived due to the strange request within and, in particular, from whom the letter had come. It wasn't often that Sasori of the Red Sand had reason to reach out to him, and it had never before been with a task such as this, and one that so clearly hinted to how the man must have known something about Kabuto's ulterior motives of working with Orochimaru. He knew about the tissue sample collection he had been slowly piecing together for years and referred to it as the Database.

Sasori wanted a name for someone and he reasoned Kabuto would be able to run a blood sample against those he had in Sound – because, Sasori humored him in the letter, a person who had garnered  _his_  attention surely would have already gained Kabuto's notice as well. The someone in question had a high level skill with poisons and was an active close-range combatant in the field, operating in the contested territories between Wind and Grass. Included in the scroll was a bloody senbon apparently from their body.

The information was thin and the order from his so-called 'superior' made him scoff. Kabuto had other things to worry about, like salvaging a destroyed base, replacing twenty odd shinobi and staff, and finding about a hundred new subjects for testing.

But he was meant to be Sasori's spy, so he would have to answer to keep up appearances.

At the very least, he would check his records and those of Orochimaru's bases. It was possible, however unlikely, that there could be something out there worth pursuing in order to satiate the man.

"Karin," he said, breaking out of his musings.

The girl, overseeing sorting of the base rubble, gave him a sour look and barked back, "what?"

 _Always so cheerful and enthusiastic._  He gave her a placating smile. "I have an errand for you..."

.

.

.

-o-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The slowly developing interactions between Kakashi and Sakura... They have a little ways to go before they can be less tense around one another.


	27. The Red .iii

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_in the bend, the turn, stop for collection_

-o-

Mornings were coming earlier each passing day.

Sakura was awake before the sun, barely, and on her way out for solo training. She had paused at the kitchen table with one short, final task before leaving. She stared at the piece of paper in front of her, its blank side was face up and the other side was meant to have a random series of numbers written on it. The indentation from the pressure of the writing was evident and that alone she saw as a positive sign. Different potential sequences of numbers went through her mind and she was nervous as she flipped the paper over.

Sakura breathed out with the revelation.

Neatly written across the otherwise blank page was '6633.'

She didn't remember writing that at all. Her best guess had been her mother's birthday.

'6633' was good, though, and she crumpled up the paper and tossed it as she left her parents' house.

-o-

Sai found a balcony across from his new team mate's apartment and watched the sun rise over the village, waiting for the boy to make an appearance. The rooms were dark, curtains drawn, and there was no movement or noise other than the snores coming across the communicator. He instructed the ink-formed mouse carrying the receiver piece to return after a few hours passed and nothing developed.

Uzumaki Naruto was typical for a genin, Konoha teenager. He stayed up late, he ate terrible food, he spoke too loudly, didn't shower well enough, and he slept too late.

And it was strange to Sai because Naruto wasn't typical. All the data Sai had been given on him said he wasn't supposed to be, at least.

His instructor and his Division Commander were so much more wary of the boy than seemed necessary. They were afraid he was going to be purposefully malicious, but the biggest threat, in Sai's opinion, was Naruto's apparent lack of discipline. ...Well, perhaps their worry wasn't entirely unfounded. More like, misunderstood? Maybe it was too early for Sai to judge, as one evening into morning couldn't very well speak to habit.

He hadn't observed Naruto for very long and didn't have any experience interacting with him.

Sai knew someone who had both those things, though, and she was most certainly, reliably awake at this hour. He had always appreciated as much about Sakura.

-o-

Routine was important, especially in the wake of coming back from capture. It provided her a sense of control, of accomplishment, of regularity and familiarity. Sakura liked and wanted all of those things, and so she went back to almost exactly what she had been doing before the Sound Mission: hours at the clinic, lessons with Shizune and Tsunade, meditation, and combat training sessions. Almost the same – but what it lacked from before, she felt.

The wooden training ground posts were really more of a guide than proper stand-ins for a partner. Very predictable and the conversation was definitely one-sided. By herself, everything in the clearing was too loud.

Sakura finished a set of cool down stretches and dropped to a seat on the young grass, more mud than flora, and tried to enjoy the birdsong. She might have literally bounced back to her feet again when she felt someone approaching the fields. Grinning, she waved to Sai as he stepped out from the forested path. He returned the wave – or raised his own hand and then lowered it without any flair, but it counted.

In the back of her mind, she knew that it wasn't very good for either of them to be seeing each other so publicly. She reasoned, however, technically, they weren't officially meeting at all. There was nothing wrong with them, by happenstance, appearing in the same location at the same time. Sai wasn't reaching out to her for the sake of his subversive secret black ops organisation.

And if Kakashi brought it up and made a thing about then he could just eat a hat.

Because that wasn't why Sai had found Sakura that morning. She just _knew it._

"When you disappeared, I did think about how things were going to change," Sai admitted as he joined Sakura. He paused an arm's length from her and looked at some spot over to his left as he talked. "But I didn't predict you would return and we would still stop seeing each other."

The words were sad and she felt her smile turn likewise. She sighed and had nothing to say. She settled for, "yeah."

"You're grounded?" He asked, to be sure.

"For now," Sakura said. "I'm sure I'll be..."

'Back on the team,' went unsaid, but he heard her, she thought.

Sai dropped the cloak from his shoulders, tossed it aside and threw an arm into a stretch across his chest.

Her smile regained some strength and her eyebrows rose. She teased, "is baring your arms some sort of challenge?"

"No, I wanted to spar..." Sai's response was monotone and typical.

She laughed, quick and sweet, but still she could have sworn it filled the air around them. "You're on. I'm sure you need the workout, probably got lazy while I was away."

Her body was the one that wasn't up to scratch in their spar, but he didn't press her on it. Sai knew how to ease a person back into the flow of trading hits, and he was careful to keep his rhythm agreeable to what she could manage. Her muscle memory warmed up as they moved and she felt more comfortable by the third time they met hand-to-hand.

Afterwards, they were each sat on a post and swapping a canteen like the old days.

"Is that how you're referring to being a prisoner for the past few months?" Sai didn't look at her. He was pensive and calm. "Your being tortured is time 'away' for you?"

Sakura lifted a shoulder. "I'm leaving that there, I'm not bringing it with me."

'Time away,' it was.

Sai didn't have the social tact to keep the next question to himself. "What did they do?"

She twisted her lips. Her answer, though she didn't say it, wasn't that she was leaving behind what they had done to her, but rather what _she_ had done in Sound.

Sakura didn't have to answer him, it turned out, as it was at that moment her name rang out across the training grounds. It came from up high and then crashed into the field in front of them. Or, well, her name didn't – but Naruto did.

Taller, leaner, tanner. He was so much older. Different.

She hopped from her seat, silent and gawking at his sudden appearance. "Naruto?"

He said her name again, face all scrunched up with a smile that could have made the sun look away in embarrassment and he looked exactly the same. Too bright, too colorful, too sudden, as was his style.

"How – when – ?" The questions jammed in her mouth, too busy and impatient to right themselves.

The stream of questions Naruto had, and comments, weren't stifled. He rushed up to her, words rushing just as eagerly. He was close and circling her and grabbing at her hands, spinning her with him. "Hey, since when do you leave your house so early? Where have you been? I've been here for _days,_ I swear it, and you've been hiding the whole time! How come I haven't seen you? Why didn't you come see me?"

Sakura waited a breath to make sure he was finished, but Sai spoke before her.

"That is a good question, Sakura, how _did_ you miss seeing such a glaring spit of gum lumbering about the village? He's like a splotch of violent, yellow bile on a snowy hill."

For a brief moment, Sakura appreciated the imagery in Sai's metaphors.

Naruto – not so much. He stopped their little circling walk to stare at Sai, shocked another person was there. "...What the hell?"

"His intelligence matches that of the bile, as well."

"It's not," Sakura struggled as the two bristled, "wait – what –?"

"Who's this asshole?"

"Asks the dick – which begs the question, a dick seeking an asshole –"

"Sai." Sakura put her hands out between the two and stopped the barbs from escalating. She focused on Naruto. "When did you get in? No one told me you were coming back."

"Well. Yeah, now I can see why! You moved on quick!" He indicated to Sai, clearly insulted.

"Naruto, it's been, like, three years," she said, a bit at a loss. She hadn't imagined recently how meeting Naruto would go, but it probably wouldn't have played out like this. There should have been a hug or something, she would have thought, and less immediate disintegration into verbal sparring.

"Are you hanging out with this guy cause of how he looks? I'm not seeing any other reason."

"How he looks?" She repeated, not following. Sai really only reminded her of...Sai. But then she remembered the first time she had seen the boy in the square, over a year ago, when he had still been a stranger and Sakura had still felt freshly wounded by the demise of Team Seven. Giving Naruto a sour face, she said, focusing perhaps on the wrong thing, "he doesn't look like Sasuke."

Naruto threw his hands up, then down at Sai. "Everything looks like Sasuke! The cool face, the better-than-you attitude, his stupid eyes, and the frown, the...hair."

He seemed to run out of examples but the insistence remained.

"He just reminds you of Sasuke because he's more considerate in speaking than you are." Sakura tried not to roll her eyes. "That's about where their similarities stop."

Sai held up a finger, as if listing, 'one.' "I would like to say that I am absolutely nothing like Uchiha Sasuke, in all things looks, attitude, and ideology."

Naruto's pout deepened, but he held his tongue. At least until Sai continued.

"Comparing me to that traitor, I think I understand now what it is like to be insulted."

Perhaps Sai was a little like Sasuke, Sakura thought as she watched him antagonise Naruto, who then immediately jumped forward to punch him. However, at least Sasuke and Naruto had some camaraderie mixed in with their feuding; between Naruto and Sai there was nothing but smarting words and offended egos.

Sakura raised an eyebrow at Naruto's punch. There was power behind the hit, but the execution wasn't clean and he struck too wide and loose. Sai dodged the fist, put a foot out and tripped Naruto's momentum. A sound strategy for someone who looked as sloppy as Naruto had, but Sakura knew better and immediately grabbed the foot that had flung up to catch Sai under his chin as Naruto let his weight go to his hands on the ground to carry out the kick.

Naruto's disdain and feelings of betrayal were obvious. "Come on, Sakura! Really? You're going to defend this guy?"

"Naruto, you didn't even ask _how_ I knew Sai! I've been on his team for over a year – we've trained together – he's my mission partner – _my friend_ – so sure, I'm going to stop you from kicking his head off!" She wasn't quite yelling, but her voice had gotten louder and her tone higher as she snapped at him.

Sakura sounded like she was twelve years old again, berating a boy for being thick-headed and she hated it.

She had reacted instinctively and spoke without any thought to her words.

_What was she doing?_

Pushing Naruto's foot away, she spun around to leave. She had seen too much... _she had been too much_ to deal with such an inconsequential squabble and to allow it to get her face heated and heart pounding.

Naruto was too emotionally immature and unable to handle his pain. Sakura couldn't be around him and fall back to that level of vulnerability and naivety. He demanded emotions and spontaneity from people and she wouldn't be able to resist – it was contagious and childish and she would succumb to old habits and ideas if she were around him.

She had to leave.

She had to leave, she had to leave, she had to leave. The thought was encompassing and she didn't notice right away that Sai hadn't followed her as she had expected. She stopped at the tree line and turned back to him, about to call for him to come with her.

A fourth person in the training grounds, up to then entirely hidden, interrupted her.

From where he appeared at her side, Kakashi said, "Don't bother. He's no longer here for you."

"Kakashi...what are you doing here? Were you watching us?" Sakura had forgotten her old teacher's tricks, but it wasn't unlike him to spy. It wasn't uncommon in the village as a whole, really, but his compulsion to do it with them, at this stage in their careers, irked her in a way.

He was unperturbed by the accusation. He shrugged. "Yep."

Sakura rolled her eyes.

"I'm observing my new team's dynamics," Kakashi informed her.

She glanced back to the boys, who were arguing again, and must have shown something in particular in her expression that prompted him to clarify, "not you. Just those two. I'll be with them and a fourth man the Hokage is appointing today."

"What? Are you serious?" Sakura asked, surprised by the development. She saw Sai point to Naruto's groin and mime something crass, which earned a large reaction from Naruto, and for some reason, she felt very deeply that she was alone again.

That, too, must have shown on her face.

"Are you upset that your team is moving on without you?" Kakashi asked, his eye watching her. She felt his gaze steady on her. Always watching her.

Sakura pulled her eyes away from the boys and gave Kakashi a withering look. She knew he was hinting to her team with Sai rather than Team Seven, and that he might have meant to be genuinely concerned for her feelings and failed to convey as much, but she reminded him, "I'm training with our Hokage; _I'm_ moving on from _you_."

"Ah." Kakashi's eye darted up and down her body, thoughtful. "You're still mad from the last time we talked..."

"Mad about what? And no one's mad," Sakura said. She breathed a little more harshly than needed.

She was angry, actually.

Or annoyed with herself. With a lot of things. Rubbing at her temples, she caught a little of the piqued confusion on Kakashi's face. It was a tiny movement of muscle and then gone.

"I have to go," Sakura told him, and she was much softer and more controlled than a second before. Quieter still, "I'm sure I'll see you at the tower sometime."

She needed to see him was what she meant. Just not yet.

She added, "tell Naruto... I'll...see him around."

She left the three of them there and didn't look back, no matter the pull she felt from the lingering stare that followed her out.

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-o-

 


	28. The Red .iv

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_mind's scattered light, convalescent guide_

-o-

There was only so much endurance one could summon for spending nights reading through medical and ninjutsu research. They had started planning out continuation of the research, but analysis and proper databasing was a lengthy, trying process. Of their group, Sakura had stayed behind in the lab to continue her work while the other three stepped out for a break after a continuous sessions of several hours. A smoke, coffee, restroom, she didn't know. It wasn't a usual occurrence, but she was alone in the room and that was the important thing.

Sakura leaned back from her seat and checked the doorway. Empty and the hallway beyond was quiet save for the murmurings of conversation from the coffee pot. She could feel the others nearby and moved to the wall lined with cavity units with quick, quiet footsteps. Opening a door, she pulled out the table inside and looked over the body she had picked at random. It was male and middle aged, combat toughened and combat exterminated.

It was no one she knew and she couldn't tell by a glance from where they had come. She guessed a foreign ninja, like the four she had brought back on her first mission with Ken. There was evidence that Himeko had been examining the body, but she didn't see for what purpose. The incisions weren't typical of any autopsy Sakura had ever performed or seen done.

She charted the pattern of the cuts and unusual markings on the skin from other physical damage. While she had been in Sound, during her escape, she had gone through the stolen files and taken in everything. In the lab, she was only allowed to read what Himeko designated for her, and the reason behind the censoring finally clicked as she looked at the body. Sakura understood what the woman had been after, although the 'why' remained uncertain for the moment.

"Are you looking for anything in particular?"

Sakura didn't jump. She glanced up to see Ken hovering a few feet away, his chakra masked and inconspicuous in the room. He was like a splotch of charcoal etched into the sterile and bright lab. He took off his mask and returned her obvious appraisal. She went back to her perusal of the body. She wasn't guilty of anything, so she wouldn't act like she had anything to hide.

"No, just curious and in need of something to take my mind off those reports." She traced ink on the body's forearm as if the patterns were interesting to her.

Ken noticed and he moved closer to share in the admiration. He stood behind her and reached around her to ghost his fingers over the same arm.

As if her hand were in the way, he cupped it with his to move it from obscuring the tattoos.

The room was kept cool and his body next to hers was hot. He'd been running or exerting himself and he smelled of the cold and sweat. No colognes or perfumed soaps on his body or clothes, only the night air and heat.

"Honestly," he hummed, "I would say the work we did for our last mission was more impressive."

The Sound Mission.

Sakura twisted around to face him. With a mild smile, she said, "I was sort of sad to see Sai's work go. I should have kept at least one."

"Well," his voice toed the line of playful, "you will have artwork on your skin one day."

He tapped his forehead and motioned to hers. He asked, "how's the progress on that?"

"It's going every day," she told him. Her cheeks warmed at his interest and she distractedly rolled the table and body back into the storage unit. "...It might take me years to master it as well as The Fifth..."

A slight scoff. "Sakura, your training is accelerating. You're a natural with chakra control and too brilliant for anyone to ever fully appreciate – including yourself. Don't be modest."

Sakura kept her expression open and positive, a little hopeful and shy, and refused to worry at her lip with his observation. Beyond the indulgent flattery, there was something more to what he was saying and she wondered at what it might indicate. No one had yet asked her anything about her time with Tsunade or inside the Hokage Tower at all. The question about the Byakugou Seal was the closest Ken had so far come to prying into her new assignment.

Unlike what she had assumed before, she thought for the first time that perhaps her getting grounded had nothing to do with spying.

Ken redirected the subject.

"There  _is_  a bit of ink that you do need to get, apprentice." One of his hand drifted up her arm to her bicep. His thumb made a circle over the place an ANBU tattoo would sit. His smile was small and teasing and pulled back further on one cheek than the other. "You're still on our roster for permanent placement, but it'll have to wait a little while more."

"I understand." She nodded. Time had seemed to move so slowly in Sound and had sped up now that she was back in the village. "It isn't so terrible these days, I've done worse waiting before."

Her voice was rough and tired, and Ken must have heard how she buried her emotions.

"I've said this before, but I'm ready to listen when you're ready to talk to me."

"I know. You're the only one to offer who's actually been sincere, as well." Sakura dipped her chin and covered her eyes with a hand at her brow to ease away tension. She might have been hiding the stinging tears she felt forming. Somewhere, there was a little bit of truth in what she had said and it hadn't been apparent to her until she shared the words aloud.

Her parents, her friends, Naruto – none of them knew what she had gone through and couldn't ask. Sai had been clinical and abstract. Tsunade had talked around the subject in terms of her service, distantly waiting for Sakura to bring it up on a more personal level.

Kakashi had completely ignored it. He had... Sakura couldn't remember.

An icy shock of realization travelled her spine and she hiccuped a strange sound at the sensation, tried not to let her breathing betray her emotions and failed.

_What had they talked about?_

Ken took her shoulders in his hands and pulled her to him, misreading her quiet gasp for something else. She didn't pull away. The contact had its intended effect and she leaned into him, feeling immediate reassurance despite the turmoil insider her.

It was pretend. A farce and a ruse on each side, but she savored it.

She needed to talk to Kakashi.

-o-

Two and a half years and Naruto was only so different from when he had left the village. He spoke without much consideration and with little volume control, he favored similarly loud colors, he wanted lunch from the ramen shop.

Kakashi could probably never eat ramen again in his life and never have a thought of missing it. But he liked Naruto happy rather than petulantly annoyed, so he agreed to honor the tradition. The picture was changed from the last time, without either Sasuke or Sakura, but somehow the atmosphere was familiar.

'Yamato' played Sakura's role perfectly the second he realised Kakashi had ducked out without paying the bill. He could hear the man's beleaguered moaning from a few storefronts away.

Kakashi allowed himself a congratulatory smile.

And regretted it when he saw that a person had stopped him on the street and the person was Sakura, looking weary and put off by his careless expression.

Well, shit. She was waiting for him to say something, so he went with, very smartly, "hey."

He should have followed it with an apology about not telling her Naruto was home. And other things, maybe.

Sakura, however, had no time for courtesies. She asked, "what was I mad about? When we saw each other last time, you said I was still mad. What was I mad about?"

Her question was sudden and didn't make sense to him.

"You were mad..." he started, then stopped. Speaking carefully, "you were upset about how I treated you. You know, back then..."

"No, more specifically than that."

"Sakura, I can't really," he let his eyes go about their busy surrounding, hinting to her that it wasn't the appropriate place for their conversation, "I can't really understand what you're talking about."

"Did we talk about my time away? When we saw each other...after?"

 _Shit_ , she was not letting it go. Did she forget they weren't supposed to have met at all.

"You might have been upset about what a shit teacher I am, pretty much." He said, annoyed and wanting nothing more than to leave her and her prying. He would rather go back to the ramen shop...

He stayed and the answer seemed to appease her.

Her face eased its tense lines of worry, and she looked thoughtful. Then some of the trepidation returned. "I don't remember..."

Sakura was dressed smartly, clean, looked better rested than she had in the month and weeks since her return, but there was something off about her again. Not quite in the sharp way as in her apartment that night weeks ago, but  _off_.

"Nothing about..." She mumbled to herself. And then, perking up, she smiled at him. Fake and pretty and sudden. "What a nice surprise, bumping into you like this! And Naruto is well?"

"He's fine..."

"And the pack? Good, good. Thank you, again, for the birthday gift. Little Momo is recovering and I expect we'll have tomatoes this season after all."

"You've renamed Mister Nobu?" Ah, maybe not the thing to latch onto.

Without hearing him, she waved and turned away. "Yes, I'm sure I'll see you around. Take care!"

He couldn't stop her there and make her talk, no matter how peculiar and confused she sounded. She darted into the crowd on the street and was lost quickly. If he wanted, he could have pursued her, but then he didn't want to follow her any place he shouldn't be.

"Was that your old student?"

Kakashi eyed Sai as the boy joined him on the street. He didn't answer. He wasn't going to play along with the ignorance he was feigning.

"I was watching you," Sai told him, unashamed. "She doesn't seem to like you. I've been reading a book on body language, and that's what my observations tell me."

"Uh-huh." Kakashi was patient with the act, as if Sai didn't know Sakura.

"Your body language is more ambiguous."

Well, it should be ambiguous. He was a ninja – Kakashi wasn't easy to read –

"Do you miss her?"

How had the little snot come to that conclusion?

But he did miss her. Not just in that moment, Kakashi realised, but there was a memory of his student, the one he had sought to comfort and lie to, that he didn't think he would ever see again. And a sentimental, hopeful part of him missed that.

He frowned.

He said, forlorn, although the tone was likely naught for the boy, "I miss the silence, Sai."

-o-

The paper that morning was indented with something longer than a series of numbers. Sakura stared at its blank side for a moment before she held her breath and flipped it right side up.

Written neatly and perfectly centred on the page were the words, 'is this where the value is?' With no explanation or any other context.

She was cold down her through her core and the hairs on her arms went straight. Sakura swallowed the constriction in her throat and told herself the note was a good sign.

She destroyed it.

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-o-

 


	29. The Red .v

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_under the nail, blade pulsing_

-o-

Sakura sat in her parents apartment, the lights out, breakfast put away, her gear ready to go, the blinds opened enough to let in the early morning light. Any noise from outside was drowned out by the running faucet in the kitchen. On the table in front of her were two pieces of paper and a pen. Taking the pen and one sheet of paper, she wrote out a question.

She set the pen down, closed her eyes, and listened to the water. She took a deep breath. A breath in and then out. Her pulse quickened. An air pocket in the pipes made the water spit and she flinched. If she thought about it, she could still feel the slick floor of the holding room under her feet. The press of cool, damp, wasted bodies against her. She thought of the smell of electrical discharges and shocked skin, of filth and misery.

She breathed out.

Sakura breathed in sharply and opened her eyes. She blinked, checked the time, and looked down the paper.

A reply had appeared.

-o-

Uzumaki Naruto was a fast healer, Sai learned one late morning after a few hours of weapons exercises. The fresh scrapes all over Naruto's body were scabbed and healing, stitching themselves right back up, only a few minutes into their break.

Sai looked down to the few cuts he had picked up on his hands. One on his forearm, he felt the sting of sweat seeping into another on the back of his neck.

"She ever heal those for you?" Naruto asked, motioning with a grunt to the cuts Sai was observing.

"Who?"

" _Tsunade_." The boy rolled his eyes when Sai shook his head. "Obviously not! Sakura! I meant Sakura. She said you two were partners or something. Anyway, she's supposed to be a healer or something these days."

"Combat medic." Sai held his tongue in denying they were on a team. He didn't know if it would be better to lie or misdirect – but it seemed Naruto's real grief lay somewhere else.

"Yeah, well, hell if I know. She's been avoiding me. She got a lot better at hiding while I was gone..." Naruto's pout gave way to a stink eye as he glanced to Sai. "And before you can say –"

"You smell like the backside of a boar, who wouldn't avoid you?"

"Damn it!"

Sai knew the actual reason as to why Sakura had been toeing around her old team mates: She couldn't contain her emotions with them, nor could she keep from being honest. She had actually  _told_  Naruto that she was on a team with Sai. It had left her too quickly and naturally, before she had realised what she even meant to say. Sai didn't blame her for leaving immediately after that misstep. The situation had been unfair for her to tackle without warning, without time to prepare.

She had even called him a 'friend.' Sakura was too open around Naruto.

As for her former instructor, he did wonder what they had been talking about on the street the other day.

-o-

Sakura's vision was wrong. Her perception was skewed and distorting, the light far too saturated and blurry, things were doubling. The room was dark and nondescript and she was only aware that there were other people with her, but not how many or who they were. Her hearing was also impaired, as was her sense of touch, but her body was grounded and she didn't feel sick in a telling way. A genjutsu, most likely and she fought to bite her lip in order to end the illusion.

She breathed, relieved, as the world righted itself. A flutter of panic rose in her chest as she found herself bound to a chair. Nothing excessive, but the message was clear. A nondescript room, no windows, one door, recycled air, tile floor with a drain in the center. Her heart pounded and she looked around for the water pipes and the hoses, expecting to see the leash that ran down from the ceiling to her neck – they weren't there. It wasn't Sound.

Sakura didn't know where she was, but she knew the men in the room with her. They had been part of the squad to pick her up from the border with Sound. They had known her Anbu mask codename.

It was a brief sense of relief that it was only people from her village who had taken her and were holding her. For an interrogation, to get information, she told herself. To further vet her for whatever group it was they had in Anbu.

The blond man was the first to address her. He told her to identify herself, so she did.

"What's going on?" She asked, a tremble betraying her nervousness. She wasn't scared, but there was something to worry about if she misspoke. It was a surreal thing to accept, even though she had known about the possibility of something like this for awhile. Now it felt somehow more tangible. ...It might have been helped by the ropes binding her.

"I remember you," she said to the man. They hadn't spoken on her return to the village, but his presence with her again was not by accident. She asked, "where are we?"

He ignored her questions.

The last thing she remembered she had been on her way to the lab in the middle of the night. And then – the room. She wondered if Ken were somewhere nearby. He would have been informed ahead of time about her absence at the lab.

"Rank and number, Haruno," he said.

Sakura told him, tried to wiggle her wrists where they were tied to the arms of her chair. There was give in the rope. Her chair wasn't bolted down. They weren't expecting her to fight but they wanted her to know they had the power in the situation.

She didn't resist.

-o-

Kabuto didn't flinch when the scroll landed on the desk in front of him, crushed a little under the weight of the hand holding it there.

He had logistics to work out on their new build and this was how his subordinates treated him... He looked up from his seat as Karin perched on his table. She was freshly back from travel, pink in her cheeks and windswept tangles in her hair.

"I found a match for your blood sample," she said without preamble, a good bit of anger and a little bit of excitement in her tone. "I can't fucking believe this  _bi_ –"

"Who is it?" Kabuto sat up straighter in his chair, all thoughts of reprimand and annoyance with her intrusion gone. "Is it one of ours?"

The idea that a rogue Oto nin, perhaps one inspired by Kabuto's endeavors, had been pestering his old "mentor" had crossed his mind and he was cautiously curious.

"One of our subjects." Karin told him and he frowned. "But get this – I know her. No, I've seen her in two different places and not in a way that one person should normally be –"

He didn't follow exactly, and she read as much in his body language.

She scoffed. "I think we had a  _spy_  snooping around our raids. I fought her. She got away, barely, and then she – get this – she was in your experiments. Different appearance, but I recognised the scar  _I_ gave her in our fight. She was...distinctive..."

"Was? Has she expired?"

Karin shrugged. "She was a subject in the base that 'mysteriously' burned down. Too many coincidences. I  _knew_  that fire was bullshit."

"Not all the bodies were accounted for," Kabuto murmured, picking up her suggestion. "Someone is looking into our business. What was the raid – ?"

"Wind and Grass disputed territories for the first. Grass clan lands for the second, where we picked her up."

"Photo?"

Karin shook the scroll. "All in here."

"And you think – ?"

"You said she has a background in poison? Given where we've tracked her, I would say she's Suna special ops."

Kabuto sneered. He unsealed her scroll and read over the full details of what Karin had summed up for him.

Karin waited for his reaction, then asked him what their next move would be.

"I'll need a messenger hawk."

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-o-

 


	30. The Red .vi

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_pulled down and out, filtered through, the blood red count_

-o-

He saw the girl for the first time when she was eight years old. The academy had tested her age group on pattern recognition and problem solving skills. She had completed the test early and answered each question correctly, and impressed her instructors enough to earn another round of questions at a more advanced level. When she aced that as well, a selection council had been alerted for her possible placement in the cryptography unit.

Danzo had been a member of the selection council and he had been there the day she was held behind after class to complete their entrance examination. Haruno Sakura was the only student in the academy to warrant their attention. She was capable and undaunted by their tasks for her, absolutely thriving in breaking down, piecing together, and solving their puzzles. Alone in the room and she smiled triumphantly as she finished each question that brought to her, and with each new challenge, she had a brightness in her eyes that he noticed from the doorway where he observed her progress.

The proctor administering the exam noticed how she seemed to shine as well. The man was his subordinate, although no one else knew it. He caught Danzo's eye, a quick glance, and waited for a nod. The girl was fidgeting as the proctor lingered near her, her face pinked like her hair when he pointed something out on her test. Immediately, she beamed and talked quickly, pleased with how he was impressed with whatever she said. Happier still when he ruffled her hair. He lingered at her chair, chatted with her in admiration and support as she worked, patted her head and ran his hands down her long hair to her narrow back. The man looked up to find Danzo's eyes as his hand withdrew from her back. Her face was red and her smile nervous at the praise, but she didn't question the attentive gesture. She might've been just fine with it.

The child was bright and accommodating, she didn't fuss. She was also pretty. The proctor saw it and so did Danzo. He thought there were several things he could do with a kunoichi like her in his division. Children were powerful, desirable commodities and she had a face that could  _end_  a man. She would need a more thorough examination, proper preparation and handling, but the potential was there.

Her parents arrived at the school in time for Danzo to tell them he wanted her in specialised training for village intelligence. The other two members of the council, not privy to his developing thoughts, were excited to share the news with the mother. She glowed at their words. Her father, however, had looked at his daughter through the window into the classroom, spotted her prim and proper and blushing in her seat as the proctor spoke with her, and then caught Danzo watching him.

He denied the placement without any hesitation. Her father knew the thoughts of the man in the room and guessed what Danzo was planning for the girl.

He was reticent to make the assumption aloud and so an argument ruffled the couple. The mother gave in to her husband's wishes to save face and agreed that they  _both_  wanted their daughter to "remain with her peers." They wanted her to "mature at a peaceful, unhurried pace with children her age."

Sound logic, as secretly layered as it was, and it was their limited right to refuse the placement. As it was a time of peace for the village, Danzo didn't have the impetus to force the placement and the other man was quietly smug with that reassurance.

As mother and daughter walked away – sullen and disappointed but resigned to the decision and proud, at least, for the consideration – Danzo asked the father to stay a moment longer for a word.

When he and the man, whose name seemed to escape him, were alone, he asked, "you're up for your final chance at jounin promotion this year, aren't you, Haruno?"

The man was at the cut off age for tryout. At his nod, Danzo shared the mild gesture contemplatively.

"Don't waste your time entering," he said then, the implication clear.

Haruno senior was no slouch realising the cost of his refusal. He simmered quietly and then nodded once more. The man went on a blacklist for promotion, as did his wife for good measure. That day had not been the time for him to spirit away sweet, smart little Haruno Sakura, but Danzo remembered her.

Over eight years later and he watched the girl on an electronic screen as his men questioned her in a room across the village.

She was intelligent, inquisitive, and far beyond the skill level any of her academy instructors or her jounin squad leader had envisioned for her. Out from under the watchful eyes of her parents, deep in the office of their ignorant and biased Hokage, beloved by her supportive black ops squad, and she was securely in his grasp.

They came for her with inquiries for assistance, for her specialised knowledge and guidance; she was still just as keen to show off her capabilities and ever so eager to please.

-o-

She couldn't see the sun from where she walked in the streets of her village. It was still low over the horizon in the morning hours and hidden further behind a thick wall of clouds. Everything was a spectrum of blues and greys in the ambient light. Rain had fallen over night and the road was wet, the stone bench she found to perch on was damp and cool. She had walked towards the village limits, aimless in her destination other than a thought to get space to think. There was an energy in her step that she couldn't afford anyone to see.

A simple spot to sit and ponder alone.

Sakura had started to look at her home differently. She didn't know when the shift had completed, but it must have happened because when Naruto found her quietly contemplating, he was the one to give significance to her choice of seating.

He dropped from the rooftops suddenly and silently, and she missed her opportunity to flee without confrontation. Her body seized and her heart met the back of her tongue and she couldn't talk.

Naruto was easy in the silence, which was new to her.

For a moment, he looked around her with small movements and a thoughtful expression. He had learned while away to be considerate and slow in his actions.

"This is where he left you, isn't it?" Naruto asked her, foregoing a greeting in his sombreness. Like her, he was distracted with thoughts but his were more nostalgic in nature. In particular, he was talking about Sasuke.

Sakura kept her face neutral and nodded. The atmosphere wasn't amenable to being contrite so she held back from correcting him or betraying the coincidence for what it was.

"This is the street he took," she agreed without further confirmation.

He was free to take the answer how he wanted.

"I hate being on a team without you." Naruto was red in his face and glossy over his skin from exercise, making him warm and shining against a drab background. His eyes and his voice were quiet like the morning and somehow that made her chest hurt.

She had forgotten how he made everyone around him more emotionally aware. It wasn't a helpful attribute, she found. Until he had come across her, Sakura had been weightless and excited. His appearance brought back all the reservations she usually pushed down her middle to think of again in the nebulous, intangible states of  _later_  and  _after._

"You have Kakashi all to yourself now," she teased him, trying not to engage  _actual_  feelings. Naruto had only ever wanted acknowledgment and surely Kakashi had given him that much. "After all your training, he must be so impressed."

He didn't take the bait. He rolled his shoulders in a dulled shrug and wiped at his nose. His eyes were on the stretch of stone beside her. She didn't think he was seeing her, so much as looking for something, _someone_ , else. Without his normal rush, he told her, "I don't get up early and work to impress anyone anymore. I don't want my jutsu to be big and showy. I want our team back. I know you like working with patients, but can't you come back to the team?"

Naruto's sandals were frayed and torn and poked with holes. There was a strip of tape wrapped several times around one sandal to keep its sole together.

It was selfish of him, but the root of his request was sad and didn't offend her in the way it might have when she was younger.

Sakura thought over her answer.

The boy in front of her wasn't looking for general praise and attention. He had found a support system with Team Seven, however brief their time together, and wanted to repair the one thing he considered a family unit. He had always wanted a title and the village to acknowledge him as worthwhile, but over the years, his real needs had narrowed down to getting Team Seven back together. She understood the substitution was valid and worth working to salvage – to a certain extent. He had changed, too, she thought.

"I've just realized how different we are, Naruto. Even when we were on Team Seven together, I was never like you. I'm still nothing like you."

"Sakura..."

He didn't know. Years had passed and he hadn't seen it. She wasn't the same as him and her direction took her very far away from his black and white lines of integrity. Naruto just wanted his family reunited and Sakura had agreed not half an hour ago to use the bodies of their comrades for illicit and morally destitute medical experimentations.

He had always made excuses for her, but she was becoming something unforgivable.

A hot and stinging swelling closed up the back of her throat, made her swallowing painful and slow. But she had to swallow back a damning bit of sadness.

Naruto wanted to save Sasuke from Orochimaru, and Sakura was willingly taking over the man's research.

She would make the advances Orochimaru had only managed by accident.

Sakura had shaved away pieces of herself, little by little, and now she would be taking from others, too. She would be a monster like the white snake many times over.

 _One simple slice_  –

Before seeing Naruto, she had been so confident in her mission's progression, so assured in her decisions. Everything was difficult but she had been so  _proud_  of her gains. That evening had been another test and she had done well. She had answered their questions, proven herself trustworthy, taken another step further into the depths of intrigue blighting their village. She hadn't exposed her connection with Kakashi. Sakura was a  _good operative_. She was successful. Everything was coming together, finally, after so much.

And then Naruto found her and – and didn't he know? She had  _killed_  for this – she –  _she really_  –

Sakura stood up, all of her muscles stiff and too quick, and her chest and throat throbbed. She shook her chin, refusing the emotions and how he compromised her dedication. She cursed and, miserable, didn't miss the dour bit of irony in their situation. For all the nights she had bemoaned Sasuke and had wished to understand him even a tiny bit, only to echo his words and hate herself and many things for it.

She told Naruto, "I really can't stand you."

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-o-

 


	31. The Heat .i

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_fly in the black water, one spin, two spin, flies no longer_

-o-

“The kids at school,” he started, and stopped at the expression his mother made. Her nose scrunched up and her eyes went wide for a second as her lips pursed. It was the same expression every time he mentioned the other children in his academy. He continued, “they've started calling me Scabs. Or Scab-boy. Turtle-Skin. One girl called me Puke-warts.”

Which was too much effort for a derogatory nickname, he thought. But it still hurt him when she said it. He didn't think any of them knew his given name anymore. At least with the new name-calling they had moved on from the old favourite of doing that thing with their arms, tucking them into sleeves and barking like those slick sea creatures. Seals or something like that.

“Huh. Someone's lips have loosened again somewhere,” his mother observed dryly. Her words were a little mumbled, but comprehensible. She'd had a long while to practice conversing with her aid in her mouth.

“My stuff was pushed off my desk again, today. And I think they took my retractable pen. You know the one with four colours?”

His mother was working at her station and didn't look up from her section of the assembly. Her eyes were fast as her feet pushed pedals, the reaching aid held in her mouth bouncing a little as she moved with the beat of the processing around them. She hummed out an understanding sound.

And then, “fuck 'em.”

A sardonic smile twisted her features. “Kids are assholes. Their parents slept through the war.”

He didn't doubt as much for some of them.

“You don't call 'em back, do you? Go after anyone?” She asked, becoming perturbed. She always worried each time he told her about the other kids that he would one day push back, and each time he said the same answer.

“No, ma'am,” and he nodded his head. “I keep my chin up and I ignore them.”

Because that was what she wanted from him and it made her happy. He liked doing that for her.

“That's my boy – ah, _shit_ –” A bit of metal had caught and a lump bubbled up in the forms she was pressing. He reached out to correct the snag, but recoiled when she slapped his hand with her aid. She fixed the problem and yanked the lumped material from the machine. It landed perfectly in the product waste basket to the left of her feet.

His mother had been a fierce kunoichi, he remembered. She was still a kunoichi and no enemy would take that from her. She was just as quick as ever, both mentally and physically.

Most of the time and about most things.

He rubbed at his hand, reddening already from her quick hit. The skin around the stinging line was unmarred and pale like the rest of him. He had only a few nicks from weapons practice, and those he was good at hiding and treating. No scars for him. No more scars for his mother had been his original promise, years ago, but that naïve dream he had been forced to abandon. Whatever ninjutsu had taken her from the field continued to take more from her body, even as more and more tissue was removed to prevent its gradual, persistent spread over the years. He cleaned up what blisters she got from work and found what solace he could in that.

“You'd be a fine medic,” she would tell him. “Your chakra is as warm as a ray of sunshine after eight months in the mud.”

She always referred to the Third War as 'being in the mud.'

He would like to be a medic, but the pay for a medic-nin was low. It would never cover the expenses they were accruing with each year and round of new treatments. Her insurance covered so many in-facility stays, and for only so many “optional” procedures. He didn't know how removing segments of her arm to stay the progression of festering necrosis was optional. Maybe it became 'optional' once they started to remove what had remained of the second arm in a preventative measure.

He pulled his thoughts from the perpetual spiralling of figuring out how the various systems in the village worked.

Instead, he brushed his mother's long hair from where it was sticking to her face, and reset the plait she wore. Nimble fingers good for hand seals, good for healing, good for braiding. He was careful to avoid the edge of her bandages and the inked seals that lined their edges.

“You do your shopping today?” His mother asked him, gently letting him know their time was up. It was her habit.

“Vegetables, ma'am.” He tied the end of her hair. Used a basic level medical ninjutsu to ease the tension in her back.

She hummed, probably exaggerating her gratefulness for the meagre relief. She asked, “and for protein?”

“Fish, ma'am. I've been smoking a catch from the weekend.”

“Be sure to bring some down to Misawa, right? His youngest's been sent out for Border.”

“Yes ma'am.”

His mother smiled at him, high on one side and curving her eyes. When she smiled like that, it was contagious. “You're a good, boy.”

But his happiness soured as she reassured him, “the village will take good care of you.”

She said that a lot. Sometimes it was followed by, "my parents never knew stability before the village. You don't know how good we have it."

He was certain the village intended nothing good for him or for her. They were tools and like the war iron that still littered the countryside, when they were no longer of any use, they too would be left to the earth's long embrace.

He thought that – _and yet_ , when the bandaged man approached him with an offer to graduate early from academy training and to enter the ranks, he accepted. The offer was money, security, it was opportunity, and it was an escape.

As well, he much preferred 'Ken' to any of the other names he'd been called.

-o-

“You had already put it together before they asked you, hadn't you?”

Sakura looked up from the body in Himeko's lab to see Ken as he entered the room. He pulled the white mask from his face and his smile was easy and confident. Windswept hair and color in his cheeks. His eyes were bright as she nodded her head at his guess. He hummed. “I had a feeling.”

There were other staffers in the room as well, but their presence faded from her awareness. She felt suddenly conspiratorial in a pleasing sort of way as Ken approached her. She played at being defiant. “You didn't know...”

“I swear it, I knew.” Ken held up a bundle of scrolls wrapped together, making them dance as a sign they were for her. She waved them to a spot on one of the more open countertop spaces. He continued, “when you were looking over that body the other day, you were confirming your suspicions.”

“I didn't even get an internal look at –”

“You didn't need to.” He was still smug as he took one of the seats next to her examination table. The metal in the seat creaked a little as he spun on its top, placing a foot on the supports of the table so that the leg corralled her and nudged her into turning to face him fully. “Tell me I'm right.”

Sakura raised her eyebrows at the move and followed the lead. She couldn't keep her smile from mirroring his. “Fine! Yes. Yes, you're right.”

He spun the seat a little and his expression was indulgent. “I'm not saying in the lab is where I prefer to see you, apprentice, but the work you're doing is impressive.”

Sakura nodded, not quite committing aloud to agreement.

“No Sai tonight?” She asked, gesturing to the paperwork. Usually the errand was his. Sai would take the opportunity to fill her in on his stint with the newly formed Team Kakashi. It was a bitter and somehow anticipated time for Sakura.

Ken shook his head.

“I heard from my guy that you did well,” he said, referencing the interrogation from two weeks previous. It was the first time they had seen each other since. “I thought it overdue that I got a chance to congratulate you in person.”

“Right. Yeah.” Sakura took a deep breath and tried to keep the sinking feeling in her chest from dragging her down. His eyes catalogued the movement and how she stubbornly raised her shoulders. “I think...I think it did go well. I mean, it must have. I'm here.”

The uncertainty didn't leave her voice altogether.

“Uh-huh.” He noticed her stammering and spoke more softly. “And you're fitting in well in the lab? No trouble from anyone?”

There was a difference between sorting paper work in a lab and using the lab for her own research, and even Ken knew as much.

“Everyone here is great,” she assured. Professionalism was in place and Sakura tended to keep to herself most of the time. She hedged on her feet. “Well, Himeko is a little sensitive... But she's also interested in what I can do and her curiosity wins over pride, I think. And the work is new to me in so many ways. I mean, to theorize abstractly, sure, maybe once or twice.”

Her tone dropped and the words were more cautious. She trailed off, “putting everything into practice...”

“You'll do fine. You're a hardwired problem solver and this is a natural step for your medical skills.”

Sakura pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and glanced away. She shifted again. “No, no. Of course. You're right.”

“Mm-hm.” He hummed again, skeptically.

Ken dropped his leg back to the ground and was to his feet with sober purpose. She watched him get up with some trepidation, afraid that something she said had put him off. He studied her face as she stared up at him.

“You're not walking home alone tonight,” he said.

“That's a little vague.” Sakura pouted and crossed her arms over her chest.

His hand was light on her jaw and his thumb gentle on the corner of her mouth. “It shouldn't be.”

Ken was the knight on the board and he was moving into place. 

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-o-

 


	32. The Heat .ii

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_salt lines dry shine from a hollow mine_

-o-

The most recent body just arrived in Lab Zero-Four was younger than herself. A face she didn't recognise and scars too old for any normal academy graduate. No name provided and she wondered if they had come from the village or if they were like the innominate bodies Sakura had delivered to Himeko the year before, sprung from the field like proper crops for harvesting.

The slack and blood drained, red-ringed and pale face stayed with her after she left the lab.

She was glad for the company with her.

Summer brought warm, heavy evenings with water in the air, and the season settled in a film over her skin.

Sakura's nerves made her shiver despite. She stood with Ken a few paces from the steps that led to the second story entryway of her parents' house. Late enough at night to be morning and she couldn't bring herself to say goodbye. She had somewhere to be in six hours. There were things she could stand to do – like recovering sleep.

She glanced surreptitiously to Ken, who wasn't kind enough to pretend he didn't see it, and lingered.

He was in civvies, changed out of his uniform from earlier, and was as quiet as his inconspicuous outfit looked. They hadn't talked more than trivialities on the walk through the village, which was strange because she had been expecting him to say something. Her mind had been a constant chatter of thought and worry, and all the things she had considered saying were rushed to her tongue and barely held behind her lips. They were at the culmination of their trip and he didn't offer or push for anything but she was almost lifting off her feet with the want to say _something._

Had she miscalculated?

Above them, her house was dark and silent. The street lamps on the residential block gave the siding a white blue tinge and, with its blackened windows and hard stillness, there was a disconcerting feel to it.

Sakura took a step to the stairs. Stopped. Turned back to Ken.

“I don't want to go inside,” she said. It was true. _Actually true_ and not solely a means to an end.

He was appraising her and thinking over his words. “You don't have to.”

Ken wanted her to crack. He'd been waiting for it since her return from Sound. She was sure of it. He had wanted for her to go to _him_ when all the emotions she had bound and dragged down inside her broke loose. She was counting on him doing as much. She would whine and moan and he would be there to sweep her back together. He'd be the solace and support in her life no one else could offer and then he'd _have_ her.

That's what his superior wanted and so that was what she wanted. All she had to do was be a little more vulnerable.

Sakura's breath hitched and her eyes were hot.

She could play at vulnerable.

The thing was –

– A part of her was ready to break. The tension hummed down to her shaking fingers. She busied them with her skirt to keep from dragging her nails into her skin.

“I can't talk when I go in there,” Sakura said about her house, the place where her mother and father had raised a good, sweet child. The confession was a strained whisper and roughened from the tightness coming up her chest. “I can't bear to say anything inside because it's like, if I open my mouth, everything I've done will just come out and it's my _home_ – I don't want any of _that_ to be in my home."

Honesty again.

She was thinking about skin fragile like tissue and crusted in red, a painful grip on a sword coated with blood and blood and blood.

She didn't like to be alone in the house with _that_  as her only companion. _That thing_ that had escaped the Sound base was a twisted mar to all of what she should have been.

"That person," she said, "and the things that happened back then...shouldn't be allowed in there.”

Sakura pressed her lips together to keep from sharing more. For two years she had been watching everything she said, controlling each muscle on her face to keep from betraying anything she couldn't afford to have out. But alone in the street with just Ken, still riled from the emotions Naruto had kicked to the surface weeks ago, she felt a split in her control.

Her vision had caught the shaking from her hands, and it had gone all the way up to her throat and down her lungs.

For years, it had been others orchestrating her isolation from the shadows, but with Naruto she had been the one to sever their ties. She had done that to herself, willingly and eagerly to the blade as he had reached for her. He had been another slice from her hands.

“I'm scared.” The little whimper slipped from her and Sakura clasped a hand to her mouth. Another sharp breath and her words were slick and persistent through her fingers. “I'm scared of doing this work. It's like...I've brought something back with me from that place and this mission – this work – is just letting it fester and _grow_. It's swelling up inside me and I feel it there. And I'm scared that I'm going to be – _that I'm becoming_ _just like him_ –”

She had escaped the base, but a part of her had indulged in her exit, she thought. And now with the work she was pursuing in Himeko's lab...

“That could never happen.” Ken's answer was always touch and comfort. He stepped to her, eased her into his arms, held her. Solid and unrelenting and not an edge to him. “You're not like that. You saved Sai's life. No matter what happened while you were away, all the good you do is still here. That hasn't disappeared. ...And...you do so much more than should ever have been asked.”

She found the corner of his chest and his arm and buried her face there. She said, “I've taken more than I've saved. And I don't think I had to.”

How many prisoners had she felled? Had it all been to save herself? To hamper Orochimaru? Or had it been for another reason?

Sixty-six prisoners stayed in the base and one had escaped.

Ken wasn't fully aware of her thoughts.

“If you feel that way, you should talk to someone. We have people for that,” he reassured her. A bit less certain, he trailed off, "yet, all I can do is...”

“No, _please_ , you're what I need right now.” Sakura pressed more fully into him, afraid that he might step back.

And then, realising the weakness for what it was, she shook her head and pushed from his chest. How pathetic she must have sounded. Regret grounded her. She should have spoken more carefully, less desperately, should have been less of complete burden and turn off. “I'm sorry.”

“Alright.” Ken's grip on her was minimal and he was allowing her the chance to fully pull away from him, but he held on just a little. His face was serious, contemplative. He repeated, “alright. I told you I'm here for you. Whatever you need.”

She gazed at him, lost in the way the street lights and the shadows of the waning night played over his features. 

“I miss our team and our missions. I miss the mornings we had together.” Sakura's throat was hot again, a sore tangle of emotion stuttering her. “I don't want to be alone.”

-o-

The newly reformed Team Kakashi took up most of his time; as skilled as they both were, beyond normal exercise and routine, the boys needed constant management. The goal of unit cohesion was a dream. Neither Naruto nor Sai seemed willing or capable of settling arguments without fists, and each spitefully enjoyed pricking at the other's ego or sensitivity. They liked fighting. Or maybe they didn't have any other outlet for their hormones and general state of confusion and so taking things to the ground was their natural option.

Kakashi was tired. His slouch was more pronounced than normal as he sank into the seat in the Hokage's private library.

It was early in the morning and there were four of them in the library for the meeting: The Fifth, Nara Shikaku, Shizune, and himself. The topic was Sakura and the debate was whether or not reactivating her mission was appropriate.

“You've not heard anything from her?” Shikaku asked Kakashi.

As her handler, he was the one responsible for keeping tabs on Sakura, a duty he might have been a little lenient over ever since they had spoken in her apartment. He lifted a shoulder. “Said they dropped her once she was taken hostage. She was under the impression her contact thought she wasn't a worthy investment after Sound.”

Shizune, having supervised Sakura herself in the months since, was unconvinced that anyone would look at her in such a way. “She's more valuable than ever now. She's been in the Office, she's running her own team of recruits. Not to mention her projects down in P&A.”

“Maybe his priority has shifted now that Naruto is around. He's always been sensitive about that...”

“She's close to Naruto, all the more reason to keep her in his fold.”

Kakashi coughed, aware he had to speak up now that they were getting close to the reason he had requested the conference. “That, uh, that won't be it. They've – Naruto and Sakura – have had a falling out.”

“Really? When was that?”

“I found out after our mission conclusion today with my team, but uh, a week or so ago?”

“How did that happen?”

“I only have Naruto's side, and he seems to think it's about Sasuke.”

“Huh. He would. She hasn't reached out to you?”

Kakashi shook his head.

Tsunade was't pleased and her scowl found Kakashi, made him feel small and incompetent. “Go check on her.”

“And if they've initiated anything?” Shikaku remained on task and Kakashi pouted at him.

“Reiterate she's to stay out of it, Kakashi,” Tsunade instructed. “She still needs more time after Sound. She's not ready.”

But to those in the room with her, Tsunade was the one who couldn't accept the path she had chosen for her student.

-o-

He wanted to find her at her house first thing, but when Kakashi arrived there was no one inside. Sakura had the shutters drawn, nothing incriminating to spot inside, and when he checked, the mail from the day before was still in the box. Her schedule at the hospital didn't have any overnight shifts.

If Sakura were anything like him, she could have spent the night ghosting around the village or anchoring a seat at a bar, but neither were her style.

When he found Naruto, the boy was still asleep and had nothing to suggest that anyone had been by.

Calling out the pack informed him her scent was strongest at her doorstep and then gone. A jutsu to move faster, he thought, and without a trace.

A mild, guilty panic went up his spine and he kept it in control by checking habitual haunts she did favour – training grounds, cafes, parks, the library, the clinic. He stopped when he thought it became too obvious he was really looking for her. People didn't need to see him doing that.

For a second he considered asking Yamanaka to help him, but the man was nosey and liked to get answers a little too much for Kakashi's comfort.

She was at the age she could have spent the night with someone. He frowned. Somehow that wasn't quite comforting, but he acknowledged it was possible. Likely, even. Perhaps she had treated herself to a spa evening at a hotel in the village.

It was well after sunrise and he was meant to be meeting with his team for training, which meant he had about two hours until he had anywhere to be. He went to the memorial stone first, to calm himself and repeat that Sakura wasn't the type to act drastically and that an hour without finding her didn't warrant worry. If she had shown up anywhere notable, he would have heard. She was lying low.

After the memorial stone, he returned to his apartment to get the weapons they would be using for the day, and he found her.

Sakura was in his seating area, a mug of tea in her hands, and looking very bored, comfortable, as she perused the first volume of Icha Icha.

Kakashi sighed, relieved and bothered and pleased to see her. Mostly confused, maybe. And seeing her like that –

“You've been looking for me,” she said without looking up. “Any reason?”

Fuck. He had never thought there would be an occasion where _she_ was one step ahead of him. _Fuck,_ when did that happen? She'd been with ANBU for a year or two, but the proof of it was too sudden for him.

He didn't hate it...

“Looking for answers when you're the one who's broken into my flat. I think you've got this backwards.” He winced. Checking the apartment for security and finding it suitable, he said, “I just wanted to reconnect after everything with Naruto. He seemed to think it was a serious disagreement.”

“He disagrees with Sasuke and will physically drag him back to the village no matter the damage,” Sakura observed, bored tone in place. “He barely offered a fight when we last spoke.”

Kakashi frowned. Cautiously, “are you happy or disappointed by that?”

Her mouth bounced down to a pout. “I don't know. Accepting?”

“Anyway,” she continued, “it's fine you were looking for me.”

“How's that?”

Sakura placed the book on the table next to her, breathed long and slowly. Her shoulders were bowed and she rubbed at her temple. Reticent and softly, “actually, I need to talk to you about my mission.”

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-o-

 


	33. The Heat .iii

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_trick of the eyes white burn a smile black_

-o-

He wished he would have had an opportunity to do something with his apartment before Sakura saw fit to intrude. His shades were drawn, the air unit humming, and the noise from his neighbour's collection of wind chimes on their balcony carried through the walls and windows.

In her pristine red uniform, with her soft pink hair and bright skin, Sakura was a strange, weightless peak of warmth and movement in his cool grey flat. A bit of something beautiful in stale wreckage.

Conscious of himself in a way he didn't particularly like, he glanced around his home and avoided her.

It had been two years since the last guest had come through. Or maybe Gai had been by in the meanwhile, but he couldn't remember. It was a fifth story one bedroom flat and small in scale. One corner was especially deep from the protruding edge of the building and glass lined. His furnishings were barren and plain in style and usage, the walls empty, and the shelves he had for display were covered in dust. The three framed photos he had, all on the top shelf in plain veneration, were grey and faded with neglect. He had turned his father's portrait around in a dramatic moment some time after moving in and it hadn't been returned to its proper position since.

Jiraiya's novel collection was the only thing not completely untouched by him, which was a little shameful.

He saw the lightest traces of fingers having drawn through the dust around his photos. And then Sakura had settled on pulling a novel from the shelf for herself.

She was sat curled up on his most comfortable chair and seemed to lose some of the control and ease in her movements as she waited for him to answer her. He couldn't tell if she were sore or tired, just that somehow she seemed to remember all the things weighing heavily on her. Her hands were pale and increasingly less steady as she put aside his book to take a sip of tea that she had prepared in his favourite mug.

Well, his only mug. He had more at some point, back when he had been naïve and hopeful. How long had it been since then?

"You're really the quintessential bachelor," Sakura murmured, noticing where his frown was directed. She nudged the mug where she had replaced it on the corner table. She said with a minor effort at humour, "everything here is for a single person. A single towel, a set of chopsticks, one pair of house slippers. The mattress is a double, but only one pillow. Really?"

"It discourages others from overstaying."

"Self-exiled loner," she confirmed.

"It's practical. I never have very many dishes," he countered.

When he had been a child, there had been a collection of dishes he left unwashed for a very long time and he allowed piles to collect. It might have been for months they sat like that.

Why had his father owned so much and left so much for his lonely son?

Feeling defensive, Kakashi reclaimed his mug for his own cup of tea, shooing Sakura's protesting hands away and retreating to his kitchen nook -a narrow room with another window hidden behind shades, a wash of more greys and distilled light from outside. It was only a few paces away and the walls didn't offer enough separation. He heard her sigh follow him. On the stovetop, the kettle was still warm and took to boil quickly.

He spoke to Sakura from over his shoulder. "I thought we had established protocols for when you wanted to talk."

She might have shrugged for answer but had nothing else to add. He turned to look and found her at his back, a step away with her chin tilted up to look at him. Her eyes were worried, her lip too.

"And you knew I was coming here," he trailed off for her to fill in.

"I've memorised your chakra signature."

"Uh-huh." He wondered how that was like without a bloodline limit to aid her, only her natural sensitivity to chakra as a guide to her brilliance with patterns.

"To better avoid you when we shouldn't be seen together," she finished.

"Oh."

He heard the water on the stove top roiling.

And then, sounding more determined, Sakura said, "I'm bringing Ken information."

"What? On what?" He stumbled. His questions were fast and sprawling. "What intel? You have been? Just now? How long have you been in contact again? When did he reach out?"

She didn't answer him directly and was much more tepid than he. "I'm going to bring him something in particular. Ken hasn't asked for it but I expect he might want something soon."

"Why do you think that?"

She smiled, one corner of her mouth curled back and it was a very small expression. Teasing, almost. Sad, too.

"Because this morning I got this," she said. Sakura was wearing arm bands that ran from her wrists almost up to her shoulders, a change from her usual attire, and the reason was apparent as she revealed the tattoo hidden on her bicep.

ANBU ink.

Her smile fell and her eyes were on Kakashi's collar. They were dark in the shadows of his apartment.

"He thinks he's got me and I want him to be confident in that assessment. But I want to control what information I'm bringing to him."

A tactical move and he approved of it, actually, if he _had_ to. "Have something in mind already?"

It was clear she did but she hesitated. "You do trust me, don't you?"

He worked his jaw, soundless in a stutter, exasperated and a little exposed. She was going from being absolutely still for months to several steps taken at one time. A full leap. It was sudden and disconcerting, hard to follow.

Kakashi never appreciated having to catch up.

Tea might not be strong enough.

Sakura's head fell more to one side than the other. As he hadn't answered, she said, "I can't tell you what it is."

"Because..." He waited.

She swung a little on her feet, a slight motion, and watched him. "You can figure out why I'm not telling you everything, Kakashi."

"Is he, what, interrogating you?"

She nodded and his heart beat hard. He hadn't wanted an affirmation.

"Since when? How many times..." Kakashi stopped himself. Since when had she been that far along in their interactions?

His kettle was starting to trill lowly in anticipation.

There had been a shift, hadn't there? In the mission. One she manufactured by meeting with him on her own terms and in his apartment. Or maybe it had happened earlier and elsewhere and he had been avoiding the truth?

Something caught his attention belatedly, and Kakashi repeated back to her something particular Sakura had said. Softly and each syllable a weight on a thin line, he asked, " _he's got you?_ "

Her lip trembled. Barely. A little wavering, really. He could see her recounting the slip of her wording in her distant eyes, thoughts inward for a moment. Then her face relaxed and she closed off any more tells. Sakura was calm.

The kettle whistled.

"Are you..."  _Fuck_ , he couldn't talk. He was breathing faster. He raised his eyes at the tattoo she was hiding again under her arm bands. It seemed a misdirect and poor imitation of his real question, but he asked, "why did you go ahead with that without first conferring with me?"

"I don't think there was much to discuss..."

"We could have discussed ending the mission, " Kakashi told her. "That was on the table at the beginning of the summer. You  _knew_  that."

"What you say about the mission and what is reality doesn't always match up," she insisted right back.

It was a dodge, he thought but then his own thoughts were spinning.

"Why," he asked, and repeated again with a rasp in his voice, " _why?_  You had an out from the mission. You can still...you can walk away. We'll get you a new unit, you can – "

If Tsunade and Shikaku didn't approve, then Kakashi had contacts in ANBU, as did Tenzou, and they would find her a safe team. A transfer for any suitable, inconspicuous reason.

"I don't want to walk away," Sakura said. For once, it was his emotions raw and fresh between them and  _her_  stalwart indifference. Her eyes were on him, clear and bright and empty. "You're supposed to be my handler on this, Kakashi, start acting like it."

Of course she wouldn't walk away. She was stubborn. The mission was all she had known for the past two years. Every moment she lived, every person with whom she crossed paths, all of her actions had been determined by her mission and chasing the vague goals they had asked from her. He knew this,  _he knew this_ , and had been denying it for too long.

For a second he was disgusted, his stomach ached and then he forced himself to accept it. He regulated his breathing, slowed his thoughts and limp worries. He had been willingly complicit in shaping this from her, hadn't he?  _Of course._ Hell, he hated it. He hated it and he hated himself and he was very much in his element in that way.

She said, "with the momentum behind what was happening, this was the option I took."

His brow creased and she noticed.

"You knew all the ways it could have played out." Sakura was cool, no more trembling in her lip, and she was back to slowly swaying on her feet, deliberately easy and thoughtful. He had the strangest sense it was predatory. "And this was part of your plan, wasn't it?"

 _Never_ , he kept on his tongue and followed her swaying with his eyes.

She continued, "or at least, you must have accounted for something like this happening."

It wasn't a question but a reminder.

"How are you..." The pain knotting his throat pulsed and it took him entirely too much effort to swallow before he could speak again. A moment before he nodded. "Yes. But it wasn't  _planned_  on."

"Good." She spoke over his unwanted, buffering excuses. "Then neither of us needs to pretend like this was unexpected."

He looked from her eyes to her hands, something in his chest dropping with his gaze. "...Right."

How could he ask her exactly what she had done? What had Ken done? He wanted to know.

But  _did_  he want to know?

"I'm not looking for any guidance. I'm fine. That's all I wanted to say," Sakura declared, conversation finished and done with any more sweet, bitter taunting. She backed through his door way, ready to pivot and leave.

Kakashi wasn't ready to let her leave. "You're not even going to let me have my input? What was all that about me acting like your handler?"

"Oh, you don't like just having things dropped on you?" She made a strange, exaggerated pout. "I can't imagine how that must feel."

"It's what my own mission parameters dictated," Kakashi heard himself say. For all he espoused, he swallowed the pills his village gave him. He admitted, feeling shallow, "l do have my limitations."

Sakura considered him. She said, "why didn't you visit me in the hospital after I got myself back from Sound?"

 _That_ came from her much sharper and pointed, no allowance for any more bullshit.

He forgot any other reason she might have had for being in his apartment.

The question he heard was, 'why aren't you ever there for me?'

And he had an answer. Because he was ashamed. And terrified. He was guilt ridden and angry with himself.

Kakashi should have gone after her sooner. Sakura shouldn't have had to scrape her way out of Sound on her own.

When had he allowed that scenario to be acceptable for her? That she should be taken prisoner, tortured, and then responsible for her own escape and rescue?

She wasn't meant for such things. She was...

...and here Kakashi struggled. Sakura was an operative and well trained. She wasn't the tagalong buffer on his genin team in need of saving. She was at a point in her career and life far beyond needing his affectionate, coddling gestures. He had seen the transition from afar and saw with an acrid taste how wrong he had always been about her. She was committed and serious and  _capable._ Way too fucking uncomfortably capable and he still wanted to reach out to her and touch her and reassure her. Every instinct in his body told him to support her.

Almost like – and he couldn't say it, but he thought maybe –

 _No_ , what he thought was, Sakura should have grown up carefree, content, blessed in boring circumstances. She should have had all the happiness Kakashi's childhood -his time in the war, the Kyuubi attack- had taken from him. And that happiness was something worth protecting. Instead she was drowning in all the shit just like him. He knew what happened to people like that. They broke. They left. They perished. They only existed in his memories.

"Why is it," Sakura said, taking a step returning towards him, "that I can never get anything from you? I keep waiting. I keep thinking maybe you might look at me and  _see_  me. At least act like you care even a little about me. Why do I have to find it from – and how I was nothing but  _begging_  for it – "

She cut off her words. Seamed her lips from the sudden emergence of emotion there. Sakura was shaking.

Collecting herself before she spoke again. "No, that's not why I came here. I'm just telling you what's happening. So you know. I don't want – "

She was talking to herself more than him, maybe. Her hands were in the open space between them, considering a reach and grasping fitfully in the air before she lowered them again.

"You send Pakkun to me and yet you spend hours at that damned memorial stone. You're more present there than anywhere else," she finished on a hollow breath.

Kakashi had an apology clawing up his chest, trying to escape him and he trapped it at the knot in his throat that thwarted his feelings and thoughts. The effort made his eyes distractingly dry and his brow pinched. But he couldn't apologize. If he did, then he would be admitting he was in the wrong, and if he felt that way, then what did that say of their leadership? Would that mean her mission had been a mistake all along –  _yes_  – but how would that admission help her now?

There was no room for apology and if he were to – the moment he reached out to her – he would feel it – that wisp of something gone and the longing it pulled from him –

She saw it in his face. His apology, his regrets, and his frustration. She waited in his silence.

Sakura was sombre.

"Don't then," she said, wounded and her voice strained.

Kakashi leaned back and watched her flinch at his retreat.

She had somewhere to be and she was leaving again.

"It's no wonder you keep company with the dead. You live in envy of them." And then, with revelation, she told him, "the dead can't hurt you like the living can."

.

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-o-


	34. The Heat .iv

 

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_a red slip, jaw gnashed, booming conscript spines ripped_

-o-

There were three observers from the local prefectures and three Grass nin with her on the stand above the crowd outside the border fence. Her team mates, the three nin, were by now unfazed by the routine of the temporary camp even though it still disturbed her on a deeper level. Chiyako sneered at the hands clawing for her feet and stepped back, wholly uncomfortable despite having been in the same position many times before. It had been a mess at the southwest border for months, the crowd appearing every morning, starving and desperate for work which would in return get them better rations. Hundreds would flock to the gates and there was always a brief surge of energy before they calmed and accepted the orders to shut the fuck up so everyone could get on with it.

Each member in the crowd had been voluntarily branded with a Seeker's identification number, referred to as a S-I-N. She would call from a randomized list and those lucky few SINs were allowed to clear trees and rake the earth for new roads. A days work got a pouch of rice and a gallon of water. Sometimes if they were lucky, there'd be gas canisters or equipment for really industrious individuals. For those who weren't called, they were encouraged to make use of themselves in other ways, like digging ditches for their rubbish, for their waste, for their remains. And when ditches weren't great, they tended fires.

Chiyako hated the Seekers' camp. It had taken her weeks to adjust to the smells, the sounds, the sights. She wasn't fully immune to all of it.

One of them men in the crowd held a child in his arms, wrapped in filthy cloth, and the face that stared up at Chiyako without expression belonged to a body that was nothing – just _nothing_. The man wasn't much better. It was clear from his pallor and litheness that whatever he could, he gave to the child. He needed more sustenance to make it much longer and it turned her stomach to think of the pile of rations stored away in a scroll on her vest that she would never use, but needed to hold onto for emergency. In a few days, at the end of the month when she hadn't used them, she had orders to dispose of them. It was forbidden to give them away or hold onto them beyond the burning point.

The thing of it was, the list she or her colleagues read from wasn't really random. Her team and others scouted the most promising labourers and kept their SIN in the mix most often. Her country and village looked at the Seekers with contempt and barely afforded them enough aid to eat, let alone live in health and comfort. Her leaders did promise the crowds an eventual path inside the borders and to security, 'but such things took time and a great deal of preparation and this was the best currently available. Be patient. Be calm and work hard in the mean time. Good behaviour will be rewarded.'

It was hopeless. Grass wasn't in the frame of mind to let in foreigners from the contested territory with Sand, especially when so many of them were society's lowest performers. Some of them could even have lingering feelings of loyalty or affiliation with Wind and would probably be troublesome to have on the inside. It was best to keep them on the border, doing work too menial for the ranks and too unappealing for regular Grass citizens unless it came with a fatter check. The area was unstable, unsanitary, and no one wanted to be there.

Finished with her recitation, she turned to hop down from her perch. She had to check the camp perimeter, make sure no trouble was being had anywhere while other shinobi teams from behind the wall escorted the chosen workforce inside the border.

She hated the camp. She hated the eyes without aim. She hated how sometimes there would still be bits of humanity in the Seekers and she would have to think these _people_ were going to die pitifully.

Chiyako hated her mandatory duty to her village and the Daimyo. She hated the gods for dropping her into this time and place.

She was frowning with some concentration when she noticed in her peripheral vision one of the Seekers approaching her. A breakaway from the muddy, gritty hunches of people in the camp and there was something different about the woman, more than merely her determination to approach an armed kunoichi. The woman was clean. Her clothes were worn, sure, but she was _clean_ and her gait was purposeful. Chiyako felt her guard rise intuitively and commanded the woman to halt before she was a few paces away.

What was more baffling was how beautiful she was. Clean, sharp, pristine. Not a wrinkle on her skin, but a cool, beautiful canvas of pale, unblemished skin. No expressive lines at her eyes or mouth, and how unbothered a face. Placid and beautiful and stuck just perfectly in place. Chiyako marvelled and was struck mute as the woman extended a hand. From one hand to another passed a small gadget or something similar. Then the woman turned, fluid and precise, and walked away.

She had a warmth in her cheeks that wasn't entirely unwelcome and she watched the retreating figure for a long moment before looking to her hand. A small wooden spider sat in her palm.

Chiyako glanced up at the woman, still retreating, and flinched terribly when she ruptured into a red hot explosion.

-o-

Yoshinori grew up in the village and had been taught his family was at least three generations of honourably served shinobi. Maybe four if he wanted to be generous to what his father's mother claimed. According to his sweet and sometimes-keen-to-exaggerate granny, before the village founding, they were a clan of some notoriety far south of the Land of Fire. The reputation didn't offer much in the face of other clans like the Hyuuga, though, and so he was really just the trickled down remnants of something that might have been something, somewhere, a long time ago in a system filled with much more powerful bloodlines.

His sister had at least graduated the academy with what little skills she had inherited. She was a genin and she did a low-level detail at a CID detainment centre. Yoshinori had flunked out of academy cause he couldn't utilize chakra for shit and ended up conscripted to factory work in the countryside. He was meant to be some assembly line cog. A quick moment of luck landed him instead in the offices of a depot where he did clerical work and he wasn't completely bored to death. Resentful, maybe, was the better word for what he was, because Yoshinori hated the backwoods and would have liked a position in a more prestigious place in a more chic environment. There were so many fucking bugs in the woods. He didn't think the village had nearly so many damn bugs.

His complaints never made it further than his internal thoughts. He knew he didn't _really_ deserve better orders. He wasn't strong, or fast, or brilliant, and if he couldn't serve the village like shinobi, then he owed what he could manage – which was diligently recording numbers. Essentially, he counted uniforms and kept track of what orders came in, who shipped in, what went out, where money went, blah, blah, blah. Boring stuff, really. It had only been exciting post-Invasion, when everything had been on overdrive and things were hardly in house before being moved out and quality control was always going to shit and people were dead. Like a lot of people back in the village were just _gone_. A lot of talented, skilled, clan-symbol-wearing lug nuts were wiped out – including their own village leader.

Another Hokage scrubbed from the board in the line of duty in service to the village. And they were supposed to be the _strongest of all_ or some shit.

Yoshinori wasn't much more than a secretary but at least he didn't die buried in the stones beneath the village walls, crushed by a giant snake.

Resentment.

He looked with some dark thoughts to the paper wet with ink in front of him, a bit of writing he had just finished penning.

Maybe it was because of his resentment that he sent out the coded letters every month. He was bitter and no one in all of Konohagakure or the Country of Fire cared about him and his has-been family. It was only a few lines, anyway, and it wasn't like he was slacking off in his duties. He still did his work, and then he did a little extra and got a bit of extra cash in return. He was a sell out and an informant to some Suna operative but he didn't care. And what was there to learn from the quantity of uniform orders, anyway? He didn't think a whole lot.

-o-

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been so ...depressed by how some people (a very small number) are interpreting this story. It's been difficult to write for these past two months. I think there is a lot of assumption from fandom that this pairing and how I am writing Sakura is coming from a naive, predatory, disrespectful place. Honestly, I've felt angry and hurt by this, even though ultimately I can understand it, too. Oh well. This story is something I cannot stop myself from writing despite the depression. 
> 
> As for the plot development, I wonder if any readers were hoping for more significance to the Carbon Man Territory plot line, because here it is. Sasori, making his moves.


	35. The Spell .i

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_wet hook, stinging in, twisted deep_

-o-

Part of her rehabilitation after Sound was keeping busy. Tsunade and the village council didn't want someone with Sakura's mind idling in recuperation, they wanted her feeling "useful" and like she was "contributing," and not resting like some dependent invalid. Observations of shinobi who had taken leave after physical or mental trauma demonstrated a pattern of highly destructive guilt and self-harm when not given pro-active tasks. At least, that was what Sakura had been told; everyone grew up hearing as much as it was taught in academy. She had seen it, too, in her time as a medic nin.

Sakura wondered about the correlation, and which came first: the deduction or the behaviour.

Tsunade had started Sakura with small administrative tasks, eventually added the continuation of her studies as apprentice, and then the application of what she was studying through teaching others. During her shifts at the hospital, Sakura had a team of medic-nin training under her. They were newly recruited to the career, had been in the ranks longer than her, and were keen to learn as much and as quickly as possible in order to keep up with their younger teacher. With the Fifth steadily leading the village to a healthy recovery post-invasion there had been an increase in interest in the position as medic-nin, there was suddenly a shade of prestige to the often thankless and under-appreciated, understaffed profession. More people started to realize the strength to medical ninjutsu, the potential. There was more to it than setting plaster or stitching gashes.

Her team was fascinated with regenerative jutsu. It was their specialty.

Their current case was a woman who had been too close to a faulty explosive tag during a training exercise. The force of the blast threw her into a rock wall, ruptured internal organs, burned a fifth of her body down to the bone. Stabilizing her, keeping her together, had been one hurdle. Sakura's team stepped in after with a different goal. They didn't want to heal, they wanted to erase the damage as if it had never occurred.

At the end of her shift, Sakura stayed behind as her team left their patient's room.

She hovered at the doorway and watched the man holding the hand of the woman on the hospital bed beneath him. He was cradling it, pressing the back of her newly reformed palm to his mouth, lingering his lips over her skin with adoration and relief. Again and again, and he was speaking lowly to her, vows and promises and gratitudes. There was awe in his voice as he looked her over; he couldn't believe what had been done.

The team had been able to reset all of the patient's injuries. They focused on her damaged arm where skin, muscles, ligaments, and tendons were scorched and shredded. It would be useless even if healed over with scar tissue, and so they set to rebuilding the appendage from scratch parts. They took tissue from elsewhere on her body and filled in the blanks with new construction, intending not merely to regain physical structure, but to fully return function. The woman was a kunoichi, a ninjutsu specialist, and she needed her hands. It took a multitude of sessions, their work going from her arm to her spinal cord, to her brain.

Sakura had led her team while Shizune and Tsunade mentored her.

The Fifth had said to Sakura, a reserved smile on her lips, "understanding this procedure, seeing it done step by step, will help you understand how  _that_  will function once you activate it."

She had inclined her chin to Sakura's forehead, seeing there what wasn't yet visible.

The Byakugou Seal Release would allow Sakura to create anew, to build up and construct.

The patient was a successful extension of that knowledge and ability. It was inspiring to see it in practice. Frustrating, too, in a way.

Sakura left the woman and man in the hospital room, excused her team for the evening, and made her way to her second job.

In the underground lab marked Zero-Four, using the research Himeko had scraped together from Orochimaru after his desertion, Sakura was deconstructing and breaking down. She wasn't giving anything back so much as stealing.

On the table in front of her was another body recovered from CID, and this time she recognised the white face slack in expression. The man had been involved in civil engineering projects and he was an occasional visitor to the central tower for permits renewal or similar things. He had gone to the academy, graduated, become a genin and then a chuunin, had found a knack for using ninjutsu in the facilitation of sanitary systems that supported the village. He had been well-known to and respected by those who cared for such things, like the hospital staff and anyone particularly concerned with public health. Otherwise, he didn't have a very strong presence. Average in most things aside from his work and a generally positive disposition.

His body came to Sakura in two pieces. If the gossip that rode along with it was accurate, he had committed suicide the previous morning. He had wrapped wire around a pipe in one of the facilities where he worked, wrapped more around his neck, and used chakra in his feet to accelerate forward with enough force to sever his head clean. The investigation from CID went quickly and an official cause of death followed the same. No one wanted to closely examine any apparent case of suicide. Resolution was never long sought.

Sakura placed the head back on its neck and stitched it temporarily into place with chakra threads. Looking at the body whole again, she felt uneasy. It was the first one in the lab that she knew. She knew the man's name, his profession, could even picture the peculiar smile he had that crinkled his nose with its sincerity. She knew him and now she was set to take the last of him.

The observation had been: when a chakra system in a body reaches complete depletion, then the body dies. However, the reverse had not proven to be true. When a body dies, its chakra does not immediately disappear. It remains, fading slowly like a very long exhale. A whisper that escapes into a gentle wind, destination undetermined.

It was the purpose of the lab to take the vestiges of a dead system and to seal it away – to use it again as the indiscernible ingredient that made  _Nocturne_  so special. Himeko had taken the idea from her time studying the leftovers of research from Orochimaru, seized by the Third and then poached by the person leading Ken's subversive unit. She had made, very truly to its essence, a soldier pill.

With Sakura's arrival, the process of siphoning chakra from deceased bodies had gone from a four person technique that took two to three hours to something Sakura could complete alone in under half the time.

Sakura grimaced at the body.

Ultimately, streamlining Himeko's process was not Sakura's purpose.

Her face went slack and she tilted her head as she considered the body on the table. She was stood next to its torso and right arm. It had been taken out of muscle stiffness already and the limb bent at the elbow with little effort as she raised the hand. Cold and tense, the skin without any elasticity as she ran her fingers over it. There was a chemical smell she recognised, too, raising the hand to her face. She cupped it there, acting a mime to the affection she had witnessed earlier for her patient in the hospital, but there were no words of adoration and love for Sakura to offer to this body.

Her current objective was even less pleasant than the origin of Nocturne.

She was attempting to take more than chakra vestiges. She was trying to take the coils and system itself. That was the root of any individual's abilities, and by stealing the chakra system, she could steal any technique or bloodline limit held within.

It was why Ken had recruited her, Sakura thought. She hadn't been recruited because of her team mates. She wasn't merely a mole in the Fifth's office. She was a successor to a technique that could open incredible possibilities... if she were clever enough and willing.

If the Byakugou Seal could reconstruct any part of her body, chakra system in place and functional, then what was to stop her from reconstructing any system? She could break down and seal blueprints from bodies and release them at will.

Theoretically, at least.

But only for the moment.

 

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-o-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like bodily autonomy, even and perhaps especially in death, is not a big part of shinobi culture. What do you all think about this explanation of Nocturne? Ah, well. I've been trying to construct a story that doesn't waste a lot, you know? I've tried to build up different things appropriately, but hopefully this makes sense. Remember how Sakura trained with that Hyuuga all those chapters ago? Ha...well, that's my way of planting seeds, I guess.
> 
> Thank you for the overwhelmingly awesome messages last chapter. This story is draining to write and I am deeply grateful for the support you all send. Please continuing leaving feedback, it really keeps me motivated and sane!


	36. The Spell .ii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's KakaSaku Month! So. I had to rally.

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_swollen haze skin humming heat wave_

-o-

_Her progress continues to impress us all, and her keen sense of how and when to push the boundaries of her work hints to a intuition with medical ninjutsu I haven't seen from anyone but our Hokage. Everyday she comes to the lab or to the hospital or to the library with eagerness and an undaunted spirit. Her teaching methods and subjects have made her specialised team a dream position for any trainee. She continues to be a formidable asset to the unit and your endeavouring spirit is clear as ever in hers. She sends her best wishes and we all await your squad's rotation to bring you back to the village._

Shizune inked out a valediction and signed her name to the letter. She folded the paper and slipped it into an envelope, pressing it shut with hot wax and a stamp. The address on its front was for the border and the recipient OR-5 Haruno. Sakura's mother. It was Shizune's most recent reply to the letters sent every few weeks from Sakura's parents and each one made her chest tight with a sour apprehension, but she found it was one of the few things she could do to ease the reality of their daughter's mission. There were only ever vague allusions, nothing specific about her pursuits official or unofficial, and they had never properly been informed of Sakura's time in Sound. It wouldn't have made their duties any easier, so it had been left unsaid.

Her fingers circled the official stamp of her office and she sighed at its stubborn, brittle texture. Her nail picked at a stray bubble of wax. For a brief second she reconsidered sending it. It might be best to stop the habit now and place the thing in a drawer and forget about it. She had the same hesitation with each letter she sent, but then she inevitably hardened her resolve and placed the parcel in her 'outgoing external communications' box.

Writing Sakura's parents might have been pushing at one or two restrictions, but Shizune would accept any repercussions. Although, it did sometimes make her long for the days of wandering the countryside with Tsunade, well outside the canopy of the village, back when she didn't have to think about wedging apart family members. She only had one person then. Now she managed hundreds. There were so many fragile and hardened and teetering bonds she had to preserve or work around for the sake of the greater good of the village.

What would Tsunade do if she were to find out about the letters she sent to Sakura's parents? Shizune wondered.

“Captain,” someone called, rushing into her office. Shizune looked up to see a pale-faced chuunin anxiously snapping to attention. She nodded for the girl to speak. “There's been a post from Sunagakure that requires your attention.”

-o-

The fruit in Sakura's hand was out of season in the Land of Fire, but between her fingers it was tender and soft and ready. Before it was in the village, the fruit was on a cart coming up from the south-west border, and before that it was on a ship set sail from a small island country without a military force. It was plucked by hand in a tree that grew ten stories tall.

Thirty years ago, no one in her village would have been eating this particular fruit, freshly harvested, in this particular month. Sakura supposed she had the Daimyou to thank for that. He had the obligation to make sure the village functioned, and part of that was through providing food. It wasn't like very many in Konoha could bother with that type of contribution. Their hands were meant for plucking out organs...

...Or for stealing more than that.

She rotated the fruit specimen, finalizing her inspection, and returned it to the stand. It was bruised, anyway. She didn't like its shape. She wasn't that hungry. She didn't want it – she didn't want that fruit. She didn't want that truth of its origin in her mind and stomach like writhing, festering hot iron –

Sakura's thoughts couldn't match her emotions and she realized she was spiralling again. It was a side affect of the Nocturne pills she had been testing throughout the past months. Even days after her last dosage she still had _too much_ inside her. Her muscles twitched and her mouth was too small for her dry tongue. She couldn't keep her thoughts from circling and she _hummed,_ too, sometimes, without any awareness. And it electrified a vibration from her toes to her lips and made her weightless and careless and eager, and she couldn't keep up with herself. She had to concentrate to remember gravity or else she might spiral away.

The sudden break of distant thunder interrupted her reeling mind, just like lightning down to ground, and she looked up to the sky with creeping trepidation. She smelled the rain and the storm on the wind, but didn't wait for its arrival before she left the market. She hadn't planned for rain and she needed somewhere to wait it out.

When the downpour started, she was inside the hospital. She watched its muted fall from the windows of the canteen, overlooking the square of the Hokage Tower. It was from her seat that she saw Kakashi dart inside the tower doors.

Not much time had passed when the summons from Shizune found Sakura.

-o-

Kakashi finished reading the message and dropped the letter onto Shizune's desk. He intoned a thoughtful noise. Something shady was going down in Suna. “Four people down and three days of unsuccessful treatment. What are your initial thoughts?”

“Toxin, poison, sound wave? It could be any number of things given the information they've provided.”

“This was sent through the regular channels,” he pointed out. “If it's so imperative we send a team, why bother with the red tape motions?”

“I'm guessing, as a point of pride, that they don't want to rush to appealing to our Hokage.”

“They really rather should.”

“Despite Gaara's promotion, they operate by committee over there.”

Kakashi scoffed in agreement to her insinuation; the village council members had even more sway in Suna than their own council did in Konoha. In response to what Shizune was proposing, he said, “you want to send Sakura out of the village. I remember how well that worked the last time.”

He wanted it to bite.

Shizune didn't give him the satisfaction of being ruffled by the reminder. Her eyes were hard and shining. She said, “Sakura might be safer there than here.”

His jaw tensed and they both let her admission hang in the air. She was purposefully stalling the mission – _the mission_ – and they both knew it. It was a vain attempt like a single stitch to a gaping wound. He didn't immediately fight the idea.

“I want in,” he insisted instead. “Put me on her team.”

She rolled her eyes and pushed back into her chair. “Like I could manage that. And why would I? Your primary obligation, for all appearances and for practical purposes, is handling Naruto. He's your main concern. One of the village's main concerns.”

“Between you and Yamato, you could have things here covered while I was gone. It could work.”

“Not accouting for the fact we don't know how long this mission will last, how would we excuse your absence here?” She humored him, waiting to strike holes into his request.

“Say I'm on medical, maybe.” His fingers twitched and he thought to rub at his left eye socket. He could always admit to the new jutsu he had been working on. That could be enough to earn him more 'rest time.'

“But not injured enough to stay out of the field?” She found the most obvious flaw.

Kakashi inhaled slowly, breathed out slower. He was being absurd, reactive and sloppy. Hell, it was like he was –

“You won't go with her,” he asked, avoiding directly admitting he had been foolish to suggest going himself.

“She'll have a team with her, Kakashi, she'll be fine.”

-o-

Was it coincidence or by design? Sakura didn't know, but it happened that Kakashi was leaving the tower as she was walking towards it. Her path was one she didn't -even _couldn't_ - alter, but _he_ could have chosen any direction for his departure once down from the steps, but he chose hers.

Like most around them, he was in uniform and covered by a cloak for the poor weather. He was straightened from his normal slouching and seemed to have a purpose guiding his feet and tightening his expression. Serious and formidable in a way he didn't often share with any audience long for the world. Frustration, too. But he was distant in whatever had the attention of his vexation and his stare found a place far away from either of them or their surroundings.

They drew closer.

Sakura didn't let her stride break when they both adamantly did not acknowledge the other. Kakashi walked by her and she felt her pulse quicken. He'd been close enough for her to smell the tea he liked to keep in his cupboard that lingered on him like a sweet cologne. Sakura kept her eyes on the doors to the tower and walked with cool focus and like it _was_ very much by coincidence they were both so close to the same place at the same time, though really she doubted it.

Something must have happened; pieces were moving.

She stopped short.

Her hand had been at her side and her bare fingers, cold and slick with the misting rainfall, caught on warmth and roughness and adamancy. Sakura turned back to look first at where a hand had clasped at hers, at once both firm and gentle. She followed from the hand up to Kakashi's face, tilted down to hers, and she watched his eye as it darted over her face.

His grip on her hand tightened, once, a heartbeat, and then he was turning and away again.

She flexed her fingers and kept the lingering heat with her as she continued to the tower.

He hadn't done that, she told herself. She curled her hand into a loose fist and tucked away the memory of his sudden touch.

She met Shizune inside and learned there was a mission being put together at the request of Suna.

“You should be the one to take this,” Sakura said, speaking more familiarly than she would have had anyone else been present. The two of them were alone in the private library attached to the Hokage Office. Tsunade was due to be back from an inspection in a few minutes, still uninformed about the situation with their ally. “This seems like something for you to handle. Just for diplomatic appearances.”

“The Kazekage will appreciate that it's you, Sakura.”

Sakura made a face. “He would prefer Naruto.”

Shizune didn't argue too hard, and hummed. “If Naruto had the requisite skill set, but he doesn't.”

He was also currently busy on a special training assignment with Yamato, as Sakura had learned from Sai.

“With everything that's going on that, do you think Tsunade will support my spot on the mission?”

“I think it will be good for everyone,” she said coyly. Tsunade would only send someone she trusted on the mission. “They're an allied village, you'll have my cell as back up, and I doubt the Kazekage would let anything happen to Naruto's team mate. Seems like a suitable opportunity for you to stretch your legs and, hopefully, your mind a little as well. ...But what's most important – would you _like_ to go?”

Shizune tried to keep any hopefulness from her expression, which was made obvious from the way her eyebrows were raised a little high.

For months it had been labs and hospital rooms. Sakura felt the new batch of Nocturne pills, waiting to be tested, hot in her skirt pocket.

“I'm interested,” she said.

“Then I'll draw up the appropriate orders for our Hokage's approval.”

.

.

.

-o-

 


	37. The Spell .iii

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_tracing shadow witness silent seamed participant_

 

-o-

 

The water rushed. Sakura stared at the grey stones under her feet and thought she saw instead the white tiles of the Oto base. If she wanted to, she could still feel the raw decay of overly wet skin on her feet. She could smell rot and shit and vomit. When she closed her eyes and flexed her hands, she could feel a hilt held tightly in her fingers.

Had she really brought something back with her from the experiments? Or had that thing been inside her since long before then?

Sakura opened her eyes and leaned her head back under the spray of the shower head. She was in a training facility for ANBU operatives, one of a number in the village, down in its locker rooms stood in a stall lined with stones. Grey stones, low light, quiet. It was very different from the base in Otogakure, but even though she looked different too, Sakura was still the same from that time.

She flexed her hand again, remembering another grasp on it – fleeting and desperate and distant – and thought, she had _shifted,_ maybe.

In an hour she was to ship out with her newly assembled specialists team, heading for Sunagakure. She hoped to see her ANBU captain before departure; a part of her needed to fill Ken in on the developments and he in turn would send the information along to his superior.

As a spy, as a kunoichi, she was of two minds: There was the side of her that carried the well fed and gore saturated sword from the base in Otogakure, when she had gone beyond survival and edged on indulgent. She could turn this blade on others and on herself. There was also the part of her that held the hand of a corpse against her lips in an attempt mimic something like love and support. And between these two minds, there was one particular thing with which both sides of her agreed. It involved Ken and then a whole lot more, and it was the driving motivation behind all her actions.

But while she needed to talk to Ken, did she _need_ to talk to him?

It wasn't that she was losing track of what she had to do versus what she wanted to do. Everything was connected and very complicated.

The door to the locker room opened and she heard the soft footfall of someone walking inside, unhurried, thoughtful, and steady.

Ken stopped around the corner from the shower stalls, maintaining a respectful distance, allowing her privacy.

She cut off the water, listened to its trickling patter as the stream slowed and then stopped. Warm mist circled around her and she shivered as the coolness of the room infiltrated its borders.

“Sakura?” Ken asked, his voice rough from disuse. He had been on a four day exercise with another squad, helping them prep for an op she couldn't know about, and it was apparent from his simplified, sans armour uniform that he had been travelling rigorously. It sounded like he hadn't slept very well in the meanwhile. There was the lingering scent of oil and old blood on him, mixing over the more tangible smell of exhaustion, stress, and exertion.

She found his presence somehow invigorated her more than her shower had. She had to abate the thrill she felt rousing within her with a quick, deep breath.

“I've been put on an assignment,” Sakura answered him. She took her towel from the wall hook and pressed it to her face and then very loosely to her front. Another breath and she stepped out from the showers to face Ken. Bare foot and with him fully in uniform, she felt their differences in physicality very starkly. He was broad and steady, a tension in him like a string waiting to be drawn and snapped.

To him she was a clean slate, Sakura thought, with a spider's web of fractures that he traced in anticipation of her breaking.

Ken appraised her, not quite lifting an eyebrow at her appearance. He inclined his head fractionally, and she watched his eyes sweep her body.

She also thought – she could break him, if she wanted. Bared or not. Her hand twitched and she rubbed the tips of her fingers together.

“Will you be in the village?” He asked.

“I'll be busy,” she told him instead. Her hands signalled a code for Suna, with an estimate of two weeks duration. More, maybe. “You'll be getting the notice for my temp in case you're to get called up while I'm absent.”

'Is this direct from the Hokage?' He signed back.

Sakura nodded.

“Thanks for the heads up.” Ken took his weight from one foot to the other, leaned his body against the wall next to him. He remained open and turned towards her. His hand reached for her, traced up her arm to stop a stray drop of water running over her skin. He watched her, and his expression conveyed what his lips didn't. Why had she really called for him?

Things were complicated and far too often, Sakura lived _roles_ and didn't step out from those expectations. Ken recognised some of that in her; he was maybe the same, but even he operated with more freedom than she did, she thought. Sakura lived trapped inside her head, caught up in analysis and deductions and calculations.

_Why had Kakashi come back for her in the street?_

Kakashi had a role and he was loyal to the Hokage. For all he told her about team work and loyalty to one's friends, weren't all her friends asked to die in service to Konoha? They were told it was a great thing. As much power as individual shinobi and kunoichi had, they were subservient to some greater machine ticking inside the Tower, answering a directive from an office further away. For this mission, had Kakashi as well not been a cog in the workings all along?

Had his complacency shifted? Did he see the spiralling like she did?

Take a monster and hold it inside you, they asked.

Become too much of that monster and then what? Sakura wondered. She thought she might know the answer.

She was in two minds, because she could understand the necessity of controlling power. But she questioned it, too – swirled the pondering like smoke dispersing into the shadows. They were thoughts she couldn't admit aloud. 

Ken was still in front of her, patient with her contemplation and waiting for something. He must have noticed how her pulse was picking up, he must have seen her trembling from it. He could hear her thoughts in the way her body betrayed her.

Sakura lowered her towel and stepped closer to him. He was surprised, very mildly, and didn't immediately withdraw or respond. She saw his lips part, eyes lowering as he followed her movements, and a quiet exhale left him. Her heart started a fast tempo under her ribs, knocking the bones like a call tapping for his answer.

“Have you been with anyone – ?” He started to say, his touch on her arm tentative and reassuring and moving with her.

Not since her time undercover in the Contested Territory with Shoma. And Shoma had been a gentleman towards Reina, despite everything Sakura had trained for and expected. He had burned, too, screaming and then silent but for the rushing of flames, and sometimes when she tried to find relief and release for herself she would remember that. She was too caught up in her own head.

“Yes,” she said.

Ken might have known she was lying. She didn't really care if he did, the result would be the same either way.

Sakura took his hand from where it had stopped on her upper arm and moved it to her face. His palm was the perfect size for resting her jaw and cheek. The texture of his glove was rough on her lips and gritted with dirt against her tongue. He snatched it away from her while his other hand moved to the back of her head, gripping her. The glove was between his own teeth and then his hand was free and back at her face. Warmth once more and she mirrored how he held her, indulging her hands in his soft hair and encouraging him to lean down to her. Their faces were close and the air between them stirred with the proximity.

She was leaving the village and she wondered how it would change her this time. Was she ready for it? Could she handle another twist in her back? Sakura was a series of turns and new perspectives, drilling deeper into something. Where would it end? How much of her would remain then, or would she sink completely below the surface into the depths?

“Will I come back?” She asked him, her eyes looking into his, finding all the golden fractures shining in his dark gaze. He was molten and enticing and everything he was meant to be and just what she needed, because he frowned with sympathetic worry and nodded with sure conviction.

She didn't ask him if she would live; rather would _she_ survive?

“I'll be here when you return,” he assured her, “always, apprentice.”

Sakura winced her reassured smile, her eyes closing as she breathed in his presence. She kissed him.

Ken moved with her, meeting everything she gave as best he could, timid only for a beat before answering.

They caught up in one another, her skin against fabric, her knees against white tiles, her hips against his.

He gave her what he could but a part of her wished he would say her name again. But that might be another lie, too.

-o-

 


	38. The Spell .iv

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_stone feet magnet to the river deep_

-o-

"Don't let her near him –"

Sakura ignored the older man's gruff commands –which spoke to her Suna jounin escort rather than directly to her– and moved to the other side of the patient's cot. She asked the woman at his head for his history and took the written notes from the protesting man's hand.

She had arrived in Sunagakure moments ago and already she was on scene with a patient. No time to do more than strip off her travelling pack and tie her hair back from her face. She had sand in her mouth, grit between her teeth, felt a dusting of it coating her body and resting on her eye lashes. Her body was stiff from constant moving and the thrumming in her blood came from an old batch of Nox she'd reserved just to give her an edge. Her concentration on the patient didn't suffer from the affronted man.

Her escort said in her defence, "Captain Tairou, she's here by the order of Kazekage-sama."

"I don't give a damn!" The man started, but he frowned and stopped trying to pull the notes back from Sakura's hands, seeing that he had not been very successful in moving her grip an inch. "She's the disciple of that monstrous Hokage. I know it already."

Sakura put the notes aside, satisfied she had gotten all she could from the information, written and verbal. She made a series of hand seals and she told the same woman to shift her hold to the patient's shoulders. "Keep him down for me."

The angry man, Tairou, glared at her directions and then relayed what she had said to another staff member. Tairou was well into his middle years, scruffy and disagreeable. He looked like he hadn't seen much action outside of a four walled room in awhile, and probably wasn't the type to have participated in the Suna-Oto Invasion but someone who might have very loudly, very happily vocally supported it from behind his desk.

Sakura made her assessment of him with a quick glance and then went back to her patient.

"You were right about some of the foreign components in his blood system, but I'm curious about the extent of the epidermal pustules. However, for the moment, I think I have a more immediate option for treatment." Her hands glowed with chakra. "It won't be very pleasant."

"This girlie is an upstart genin bitch," Tairou said to the same escort, unimpressed.

"This girlie is a Jounin special class, but I have better measuring sticks if you'd like to get into a contest," Sakura offered, hands still busy and her eyes focused on her patient.

The Suna medic holding down the patient smiled at the volley. Speaking to Sakura, she said, "shit, have you met Temari-sama? You two should definitely meet."

Tairou turned red in the face, displeased with the show of budding camaraderie from his subordinate. He almost yelled, "we don't even know if these Konoha dogs aren't responsible for this attack! They could be the ones poisoning our people. That Slug Princess is a bastard undertaker. This might very well be her work!"

"How about we save lives and then get into politics." Sakura put one hand at the patient's neck, to dull his awareness of the procedure she was about to start, and then with the other, began to extract foreign elements from his blood stream. A moment passed and she brought both hands to work in his middle, one for extraction, the other for regeneration of healthy tissue.

Speaking to Tairou again, she told him exactly what she wanted the other members of her team and his team to start as a new course of treatment for the other patients.

His glare lessened as he watched her work, and he was only a little affronted and reluctant to listen, or perhaps he was distracted. In her peripheral vision, she saw how he looked between her hands.

"Or I can stop, if you'd like," Sakura said to break him from his stupor. "I wonder which the Kazekage would find more offensive, my leaving or your refusal of my aid?"

Her jounin escort made a point to pressure the man into obeying Sakura and Tairou managed to finally leave them, mumbling as he did.

"We'll find out who's behind this," Sakura assured the other woman, who was younger and perhaps less biased than her superior. The woman's smile had become more reserved, but Sakura appreciated her determined nod.

The patient was on the verge of experiencing systemic organ failure.

Sakura held the isolated remnants of poisoning agents that had been in the patient's body suspended in the air within her chakra. When she had removed as much of it as she could, she had it sent to a lab to be identified. She started patching what she could to keep his systems from shutting down.

With the patient temporarily stabilized and heading to a manageable recovery, she continued the same treatment of a physical removal where is was appropriate until the only patients remaining were those too ill to go through the procedure without major risk.

In the lab, as was her norm, she began to deconstruct.

-o-

"Wouldn't you prefer to rest?" Temari asked Sakura, eyeing her very plainly. "You've been working for two days. I don't think anyone has seen you take more than a few minutes to stand still, let alone sit."

"This might be my last task for the evening." Sakura assured.

They were inside an antechamber, basking in the glow of red clay walls and orange, stained glass windows. She was standing between rows of white bricks. Each brick was linen wrapped and varied in size. They were the bodies of victims from the poisoning, prepared and ready for death rites. Some were civilians, others were not. Some had been there awhile, others were fresh. Her heart drummed in her head as she picked out the shinobi from the civilians. One of the bodies had a seal over its eyes, another had a seal around its elbows. She thought, bloodline limits.

"I'll need as much as the original poison as possible, so I apologize for this offence, but it is unavoidable," she told Temari.

"You've explained yourself already. Do what you must."

Temari, respectfully, looked away from the bodies as Sakura worked, and Sakura thought how much of an influence Naruto must have had to rouse such devoted trust from a such a hard woman. It almost made her stomach turn.

Sakura went to work and soon the ill feeling left her in favour of a burning curiosity.

She had lived with guilt already, hadn't she?

-o-

Shinobi poison was a strange thing. It worked like the fantasy of a wizard's potion more than a proper poison, but Sakura had always enjoyed the challenge of understanding their structures and their symptoms. More than that, she liked countering their effects.

She was isolating the separate agents she had taken from different patients when she slowly became aware of an unfamiliar presence with her and the team in the room. An old woman was watching her. Sakura eased from her leaning to turn in her seat and return the gaze.

Wordlessly, the woman moved from the shadows and crossed the room without making her presence obtuse in any manner. Others moved around her and the Suna nin were polite enough to nod and not directly address her, as they seemed to think letting one go about unimpeded was a better curtesy than interruption.

"Can I help you?" Sakura asked, but the woman was more interested in the books Sakura had open on the countertop around her.

She read what Sakura had determined to be the initial make-up of the poison, and then read her theoretical antidote. She 'hmmed.' "What a curious similarity."

Sakura narrowed her eyes. "What does that mean?"

"I'm only alluding to you and that woman, girl, don't be touchy."

"Ah. Another fan of my Hokage."

"Not the word I would use."

"Fan?" Sakura humoured.

"Hokage. No privileged, self-absorbed coward like that  _Princess_  should be a leader of men."

Sakura seemed her lips and smiled a grimace. She wondered if it were those characteristics where the woman saw overlap between she and her mentor. Or was it her style of countering poisons? Either way, she felt it was time to encourage the woman left the lab. "I should return to my work. Unless you can take over from here?"

Suna nin were rough. They could be abrasive and Sakura allowed herself to enjoy the opportunity to cut her normally uptight rigidity a little slack. She raised an eyebrow as the woman sniffed.

"Do as you please, the Kazekage seems to think you've earned it." And then, as a parting, "we'll see."

-o-

From eyewitness accounts, the man on the table had been walking through a primarily civilian sector of the village when he become overwhelmed by a coughing fit. He had struggled to remain standing, clutching at his chest and moaning as he began coughing up blood. Within minutes, he died and did not respond to attempts to resuscitate him. It was a suspicious death and, being he was a shinobi, the Sunagakure Criminal Investigation Division opened an inquiry.

Before the end of that day, the village hospital had six other similarly bizarre cases, but no deaths from bloody coughing fits. That was – until the fourth day, when one of the patients expired in the very same manner. By week two, eighty-three individuals were in hospital and another two dozen had perished.

The Kazekage suspected the village was under attack.

Sakura, standing over the opened corpse of Patient Zero, nodded in agreement to Gaara.

An hour ago, she had finished administering the first course of successfully tested antidotes. Gaara had watched as she had purposefully poisoned her own tissue to test her antidotes. After that, he had been a little more open to her company and so she had graduated to helping in ascertaining just what exactly was the method behind the deaths and illnesses.

She and the Kazekage were the only two in the room aside from the body. They were each wrapped in ceremonial protective robes, almost entirely invariant in beige shades but for the black ink sealing out possible deadly agents. In front of their faces, suspended from under their hoods, were veils that allowed them to see each other and speak with one another without too much obfuscation.

"Do you see these burns on this tissue here, and again here and here?" Sakura asked Gaara, her voice quiet in a very quiet room. She was nervous to speak too familiarly or loudly with Gaara – she hadn't quite forgotten his old nature – and so she softened her words with calm purpose and professionalism. He nodded, not minding her slight but unintended patronizing, and she continued her explanation of their nature.

"These marks are from a chakra burn?" He asked as a point of clarification. "Not some other caustic agent?"

His medics and investigators had been chasing an incomplete lead for nearly two and a half weeks. It wasn't news she had been eager to share, and she was glad it was the two of them in the room when she told him.

"It's no wonder Tairou doesn't like you. No one would wish to look so incompetent," Gaara mused, his face impassive but his tone bordered on humorous.

"My mentor killed his parents, so there's that as well." Sakura reminded, helpfully.

"I killed his niece," Gaara said. "He can adjust his attitude."

Sakura didn't comment further on that. She said, "if you ask him to examine these burns again, more thoroughly, I'm sure he will come to the same conclusion."

Suna was understaffed and overworked. She wasn't surprised the misidentification in the analysis had been made. It could happen to anyone in a similar situation. Sakura just happened to have fresh eyes and a thorough team, all of them ready to track down information and analyse minor bits of details. Between Sakura, Shizune, and Tsunade, they had elected three other medic-nin to go to Suna: a member of Sakura's regenerative specialization team and Shizune's disciple, a communicable disease treatment and management specialist, and the final member was an Aburame Clan jounin who had a strong background with toxins and venoms.

They were, she realized, the right group for the investigation.

"We've determined an environmental link between outbreak locations to be steam vents," she said. "Those affected inhaled the invasive agents, most likely. They would be able to travel through the air with enough concentration for a small radius. But more than that, I believe I can tell you from where the poison was most likely manufactured."

After identifying the ingredients used in the poison, Sakura had been able to map out the points of origin for each agent. "And, knowing that, we have an advantage beyond the antidote," she told Gaara.

"You're supposing we can deduce who is the one to have made the poison."

"I believe so. Would you like to hear my theory on why this is happening and from where the attack has originated?" Sakura asked, half expecting Gaara to turn her away. He had his own staff members and advisors for such things. "Although, I would consider this a sensitive matter."

He surprised her when he nodded. "We'll discuss this in my office. I will hear your thoughts."

The office of the Kazekage was centrally located at the heart of Sunagakure, up several stories in the top floor of a domed tower. The room was open and large, fixed with shelves, a bar, a lounge area, a long table that seated a dozen, and his work area. The walls were rough and made from sand, and one side of the room was almost completely open to a balcony. No windows or doors, but an open wall. The wind came in freely and rustled papers, blew sand about. Gaara had no trouble moving the sand right back out, and seemed to enjoy the breeze as he shut his eyes when it stirred its way inside.

He poured her a drink and they sat on the stiff cushions of his lounge.

"I'll hear you, but do not expect that I will agree with your findings."

"Of course. It's actually...a bit troublesome for both Suna and Konoha if I'm correct. I'm hesitant to share it at all without consulting my own master. But then...it's only a thought."

"If it involves your village, then I won't be inclined to act rashly."

Sakura smiled a very small curl to her mouth, surprised once more by Gaara's calm and thoughtful demeanour.

"I believe the origin of the poison is Grass country. And, I'm not confirming my knowledge of any such actions, but I think the attack might be in response to movements our countries might have taken in contested territory in recent years."

Gaara stared at her and she explained her awareness with a half truth. She said, "I might have been on a team examining remains that might have come from such a territory. After a fire, determined to have been started by Oto nin."

The reasoning she offered satisfied him.

Another breeze came through the opening and Gaara shut his eyes to take a deep breath, his mind turning over behind his closed eyelids. Sakura coughed discretely into her hand and tried not to impose on his thoughts. He must have been debating the fallout of such a thing, if it were true.

"And the point of the poison coming from the steam vents," Sakura started, returning to an earlier aspect of her investigation.

"Perhaps it means they have an insider," he filled in for her.

"Or that the attacker is within the city, disguised." Sakura coughed more, trying to clear a tickling in her throat. Something wet hit the palm of her hand and she frowned at the thought she had spit up from her coughing. Her hand trembled as she lowered it from her face.

She didn't quite register what the red on her skin meant until Gaara started coughing over his words as well.

"Neither option – is very – appealing –"

"Kazekage-sama," Sakura said, her mouth drying and words failing her.

Gaara had come to the same conclusion as she, his eyes wide at the blood in his own hands, fresh and saturated from his lips. He flung his arm out and the sand in the air around them repulsed from the room with a palpable wave, but it was too late. The poison was already in their blood streams and slowing their movements.

Sakura very coldly remembered humility as she realized, she had been wrong about the steam vents. The poison came on the air, and the two of them had just been hit with a potent dose.

-o-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to keep the plot tight and coherent is tough work. Writing is tough work. Sometimes I wonder about this insatiable need to write and think, wouldn't it be so much easier to just leave this to thoughts that strike my fancy at night when I'm trying to fall asleep? But then, eventually, I find myself in Word once more and working away on this story. :,) But it is worth it knowing I have readers out there! Thank you all for your support. (I love you)


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